


Man Overboard

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Boats and Ships, Case Fic, Dating, First Time, M/M, NCIS Secret Santa, Picnic, Romance, Urban Exploration, season 6, sesa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: An admiral is murdered at a party and the NCIS team pursues a suspect. Tony risks his life to bring in the killer, prompting Gibbs to realize he wants to date Tony, for starters. He takes Abby's advice and goes in pursuit. Nothing is straightforward though.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Comments: 44
Kudos: 289
Collections: 2019 NCIS Secret Santa Gift Exchange





	1. The Fugitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jane_x80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/gifts).



> This story is written for jane_x80 as part of the 2019 NCIS Secret Santa Gift Exchange.  
> Part of her request is: I would love to see a story where Gibbs pursues Tony to get him into a relationship. Tony is clueless about Gibbs' feelings for him and has never considered Gibbs to be anything but partner and friend, although he has no objections to dating men. Bonus if McGee or Abby is roped into Gibbs' schemes to date Tony.
> 
> Takes place season 6, April 2009, between Toxic and Legend I.  
> Not favorable towards Ziva.
> 
> Thanks go out to my wonderful beta - Jacie!!

**MAN OVERBOARD**

**CHAPTER 1 - THE FUGITIVE**

_Saturday, April 18, 2009_

She was gorgeous. Breathtaking. Tony had never seen anything so beautiful, so sleek, so incredibly fucking luxurious in his entire life. _The Valiant_ , all 195 feet of her – a grand motor yacht with ten staterooms, three sundecks, a mini pool and an outdoor horseshoe bar – spoke of wealth beyond his dreams. He’d read up on the ship: charters ran upwards of a quarter-million a week in the Mediterranean, with ten-course, five-star meals prepared by a Michelin-star chef. Amenities included Jacuzzis, Jet Skis and water toys. In addition, there was an experienced, good-looking crew, the best money could buy, catering to your every whim.

Unfortunately, the reason he, McGee and, of course, Gibbs, were aboard the yacht, was because they were hunting down a fugitive. The man they were after, a 21-year-old named Martin Antibo, had murdered a Navy admiral the day before. Antibo was one slippery little fucker who had found a hidey-hole somewhere on the boat, and they were having trouble locating him.

They’d scoured the ship from stem to stern and now he, McSeasick, and a couple of Coast Guard agents were keeping an eye on the crew who’d assembled on the main deck. Tony took a moment to check out the pretty head steward, Katrina, and the even prettier bosun, Jason, while wondering if this would be a good time to make a major career change. Hell, even the captain, a tall blond woman in her forties, who looked as if she could break him in half if she so desired, was damned good looking. God, the smell of salt air and pineapple suntan lotion was turning him on. Oh yeah, he could definitely see himself yachting around the Bahamas or the Med, serving cocktails and having wild monkey sex with the crew, and maybe even with some of the passengers.

A shout jolted Tony from his little fantasy, and he looked up just in time to see a man dive off an upper deck – in a beautifully executed dive that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Olympics – and hit the water 40 feet below with a huge splash. “Shit! Did you see that? Man overboard!”

  * n c i s •



“Man overboard!”

The moment he heard those words, Gibbs was out of _The_ _Valiant’s_ wheelhouse and double-timing it down the steep stairs. He could hear the captain’s footsteps behind him as ran the length of the luxury motor yacht, through the dining area and past the horseshoe bar, and out into the bright sunlight of the aft deck. Below, the crew members were leaning over the railing, pointing and shouting at a man in the water.

DiNozzo was right in the middle of things, shouldering his way through the small crowd to get to the rail. McGee was busy herding the crew – all young and tanned, in bright blue shirts – out of the way, to give DiNozzo some room.

The captain came up behind Gibbs. “If he jumped from up here, it’s a 40-foot drop.”

“Who went over? My suspect?” Gibbs asked the tall blond woman, who was scanning the crew below to see who was missing.

Captain Carol, as they called her, pulled out a walkie, and after a terse conversation with the bosun, confirmed, “It was Martin. He jumped from the sundeck.”

Gibbs muttered, “Damn,” and continued down to the main deck, with the captain on his heels.

The good news was _The Valiant_ was at a standstill, anchored south of Annapolis, away from the main channel. Once NCIS had radioed the captain they wanted to board her ship – which had been making course for Canada after a stopover in Annapolis – they had dropped anchor. Gibbs and two of his NCIS agents had grabbed a ride on a small Coast Guard cutter, and, along with two USCG agents, boarded _The Valiant_ to search for a man who had killed a Navy admiral.

DiNozzo, McGee, and the two Coast Guard agents had searched the ship and rounded up fifteen of the yacht’s crewmembers. Apart from the deckhands, there were two engineers, several stewards, and one very pissed-off chef. The man they were after, their murder suspect, had not yet been located.

Gibbs had left the Coast Guard agents checking IDs, and told DiNozzo and McGee to question the crew while he went up to the bridge to talk to the captain. He had exchanged only a few words with Captain Carol when the cry of ‘man overboard!’ had resounded.

The captain kept apace with Gibbs as he made his way down another set of steep stairs to the main deck. One of the crew was throwing a life preserver over the side, and another deckhand appeared to be preparing to jump in the water to assist in the rescue. His fellow workers were preventing him from going over the side, cautioning the current was dangerously strong. Gibbs could see the Coast Guard boat maneuvering off the stern to help in the rescue of the man in the water.

McGee was standing at the rail, speaking urgently to DiNozzo. “You can’t! You heard what they said!”

DiNozzo didn’t seem to be paying any heed to his partner’s warning. He had already stripped off his jacket and was toeing off his shoes, and in the time it took Gibbs to get to his agent, DiNozzo’s belt and holster had joined the small heap of clothes on deck. Realizing what his man was about to do, Gibbs shouted, “DiNozzo!”

DiNozzo turned his head, just for a second. Gibbs knew he’d heard his warning, but, with a determined set to his jaw, DiNozzo jumped up on the gunwhale. Gibbs surged towards him, thinking he could somehow stop him from making such a foolhardy move, but he was too late. Just as he reached the railing, DiNozzo jumped, feet first, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest in the ‘abandon ship’ position. There was a loud splash and the bosun shouted, “Another man overboard!”

  * n c i s • 



_One day earlier: Friday, April 17_

“Body in Alexandria. Gear up,” Gibbs barked.

Tony had a feeling the boss found it entertaining to watch his three agents jockeying for a good position in the elevator, in order to be the first one out. Gibbs knew damned well that all three of them were intent upon claiming the shotgun seat, but he never played favorites. Tony had good reason to hate being crammed into the back seat, as did McGee; there simply wasn’t enough legroom in an NCIS sedan for a tall man. But the thing he hated even more was that somehow Ziva always managed to slide her ass into the front passenger seat before he did, and that her small victory would invariably be accompanied by an annoyingly smug smile.

As soon as they were on the move, Tony called the Alexandria Police and got the details from the desk sergeant, who he knew from when they’d worked together on the Baltimore police force. As soon as he hung up, Tony reported, “Admiral Brian J. Kelsey is the deceased. Suspect is one Martin Antibo, age 21, who is not in custody at this time.”

“Witnesses?” asked Gibbs from the front seat.

“Uh yeah, about fifty,” Tony replied. That made Gibbs turn just enough to glance over his shoulder at his second-in-command. “The admiral and his wife were throwing a sweet-sixteen party for their daughter,” Tony said, “and half the country club members were there. My contact, Sergeant Maloney, says that the admiral appeared to be telling Martin Antibo to leave the party. They exchanged some heated words and then Antibo knifed him. Antibo ran off, evading a couple of guests who did their best to tackle him, and he has literally vanished. There’s a BOLO out on him. He’s believed to be on foot, but so far, no sightings.”

“Anyone else hurt?” asked Gibbs.

“Not as far as Sergeant Maloney knows. EMTs pronounced Admiral Kelsey dead when they arrived a short time later. By the way, Boss, once we’re off the bridge, go north on Route 1, and after two miles, left onto Elm, go right on Sky Hill Drive,” Tony said helpfully.

“And you know your way to this location because one of your bimbos lives there?” Ziva asked.

Tony stared at Ziva in disbelief, but recovered enough to say, “No. I attended a black-tie charity dinner in the same neighborhood, at Governor Gillman’s estate.”

McGee asked, “A charity dinner?” as if he found it hard to believe Tony would attend such an event.

“Yeah, McDubious, and I escorted Connie Hall. Lovely woman, smart as a whip.”

McGee looked at Tony with wide eyes. “You mean the ZNN White House correspondent?”

“You know her?” asked Tony.

McGee laughed. “I _wish_ I did. How did you manage to hook up with her?”

Tony said, “Ms. Hall and I both support the Governor and his wife’s fundraising work and she needed an escort who–”

“That is low, using a charity to get into bed with a woman,” Ziva said, turning to frown at him.

Tony had had enough of Ziva’s sniping at him. He said in a calm and controlled voice, “Not that I owe you any explanation, Officer David, but Governor Gillman hosts an annual dinner and auction to raise money for leukemia research. My mother died of it, so I give whatever I can to the cause.” He was going to leave it there, but instead, because he was really pissed off at her remarks, he said in a formal manner, “Your constant digs at me are out of line, and I’m cautioning you: if you say anything negative or inappropriate to me, or about me, or to anyone else we encounter on the job, I’m going to write you up.” Ziva took a breath in preparation to talk back, but Tony held up a hand to stem the flow. “Whatever it is you’re dying to say, please don’t. I’m giving you an official warning that it would not be in your best interest to open your mouth at this time.”

With a sound of disbelief, Ziva turned to Gibbs. But instead of backing her, Gibbs jerked his thumb in Tony’s direction and said firmly, “What he said. He’s the senior field agent.”

Ziva seemed taken aback. “You don’t…”

“ _You_ don’t want to buck me on this, Ziva. Or him, either,” Gibbs said bluntly. He caught Tony’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and gave him a nod before turning his attention back to the road. With a huff, Ziva crossed her arms and slumped in her seat.

Tony smiled to himself about getting Gibbs’ support. McGee leaned towards him and said softly, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, losing your mom when you were a kid. That had to rough.”

Tony nodded, accepting his words as sincere. Wanting to get back to the case at hand, he motioned towards McGee’s laptop, which he’d brought with him. “Can you get us any more background information on the people involved?”

“Sure.” McGee opened up his laptop as they sped along the highway, and got down to business. After a couple of minutes, he reported, “The victim is Admiral Kelsey, age 55. He’s been on the _USS Carl Vinson_ for the past couple of months, and returned only yesterday. Married to Faith Greenway Kelsey; they have one daughter, Ashley. The admiral looks solid; he’s a decorated pilot, oversaw American naval operations in Europe…” He worked on the computer for a few more minutes, and then reported, “Several people saw Martin Antibo stab the admiral. He was positively ID’d. There isn’t much on him. He entered the US, flying from Italy two weeks ago, and started working at American University as a guest diving coach. Looks like he was on the Italian Olympic diving team but didn’t make the cut. He gave his current address as 1200 Rodman Street NW…”

Tony added, “That’s faculty housing. The university owns or leases all the property below the 1200 block.” McGee gave him a funny look so he shrugged. “What? I remember details.”

“That’s what computers are for,” McGee said.

Tony laughed because the probie actually believed that. “Sure, until you lose power. Or if you’re in a remote location. Or if your laptop is stolen or compromised…”

Gibbs chimed in, “Or if someone shoots a hole in it…”

Despite Gibbs taking the off-ramp at a speed that caused everyone to lean heavily to the left, McGee remained focused on his search for information. His eyes lit up when he found something interesting. “Martin Antibo’s mother died three weeks ago, in Italy… in a town called Catania.”

“That’s in Sicily,” Tony corrected. “Catania is the land of three-hour lunches, arancino and a language not to be confused with Italian. Parrami n sicilianu? You know Sicilian, Ms. David?”

“I speak ten languages,” Ziva said, as if that settled the matter.

“But not Sicilian,” Tony said, pushing his point.

“It is a bastard language and not one I need to know.” She turned to McGee and asked, “Any other relatives or connections in the United States?”

McGee said there was no record of anyone in the US. “But once we’re back at the Yard, I can access more info on secure channels… I can tell you Martin Antibo is a US citizen. He was born on a US base, and his father was American military.”

Ziva mused, “Perhaps the admiral and Martin already knew each other, and had some bad blood?”

Tony was doubtful. “You mean a vendetta? A blood feud that’s been going on for generations? There has to be some reason Martin killed Admiral Kelsey, and in front of all those witnesses. Was he even invited to the party?” Before Tony had a chance to say any more, the NCIS sedan made a sharp turn into a circular driveway, and skidded to a halt in front of a stately white house with an elegant, columned portico. Small groups of well-dressed people stood around under old shade trees at the side of the house, many with drinks in hand. The pretty picture was marred by their distressed expressions, and the presence of police and emergency vehicles parked bumper to bumper in the driveway.

Gibbs parked behind a police car and exited the sedan before his two agents in the back seat had even unbuckled their seat belts. Ziva was out of the car like a flash, and standing at Gibbs’ side as if she owned him.

“We really have to interview all of them?” McGee asked Tony, as he closed his laptop and put it in a carrying case.

“Yup, and write up a separate IWR-522 for each one,” Tony sighed. “I hate forms.”

Gibbs leaned down just enough to glare through the car window at Tim and Tony. “You two waiting for an engraved invitation to the party?”

“No, Boss! On your six!” they both said as they scrambled out of the vehicle.

They retrieved their gear from the trunk and were walking up the path to the front door when Gibbs took Tony’s arm and stopped him. He let McGee and Ziva walk ahead before saying, in a low voice, “I don’t want to hear any talk of feuds or vendettas when we’re in there. And no flirting with anyone, understand?”

“Of course not, Boss,” Tony said, surprised that Gibbs thought he’d say anything out of line at a crime scene. Okay, so now and then he made nice with an attractive woman, and occasionally a man, but only as a way of obtaining information. “You know me. I’m nothing if not professional.”

Gibbs snorted, but the corner of his mouth twitched as he walked away. Ziva gave Tony a fake smile, shaking her head a little as if she found it amusing that Gibbs had told him off.

Tony picked up the two bags containing the evidence-collection supplies and trudged after them, thinking that this shaping up to be a long and trying day.

  * n c i s • 




	2. The Diver

**CHAPTER 2 - THE DIVER**

_Friday, April 17_

The local police had already cordoned off the crime scene and erected screens to shield the body from view. The team worked together to collect evidence around the admiral’s body, took photos and did sketches. Even in death, Admiral Kelsey was handsome, with military-cut dark curly hair just starting to go gray. His white polo shirt was stained with a copious amount of blood, as was the grass beneath his body. Once they had finished photographing, bagging and tagging the site, Gibbs went to talk to the first officers on the scene. “You, start questioning the witnesses,” he said to his three agents.

It wasn’t easy getting anything useful out of the guests, as many of the teenaged girls and their parents were either in shock or crying, or both. Nobody had overheard the brief conversation between Martin and the admiral prior to the stabbing. Not a single guest at the party had any idea why anyone would kill Admiral Kelsey. Most of the guests hadn’t seen the stabbing, and many didn’t even know who the young man was who’d attacked the admiral.

For those who had seen the assailant, they described him as varyingly as slight, muscular, athletic, long wavy dark hair, unkempt, wild-eyed, on drugs, crazy and more. Tony knew enough to take any description with a grain of salt. McGee pulled up Antibo’s US passport picture on his phone, which showed him as being 5’10” with long, dark hair and gray eyes.

Ducky and Palmer arrived and did a brief but thorough inspection of Admiral Kelsey’s body where it lay on the lawn. As usual, Gibbs wanted to know details about the man’s death immediately. The ME reported, “Only one wound, a fatal one, consistent with a knife thrust between the second and third ribs. Considering the amount of blood, it is likely that the blade penetrated the heart, causing bleeding around it, and into the lungs. It is likely that the poor man was dead within a minute. Did you recover the weapon?”

“Not yet,” Gibbs replied.

“As usual, I shall know more once we have the gentleman on the table, but it was a clean cut. He was stabbed with a plain-edged knife. Mr. Palmer and I will remove the body in a precipitate manner,” Ducky promised.

With the assistance of the police, Gibbs and his team managed to interview all the guests, plus the caterers and servers for the party, in record time. Gibbs caught sight of a pretty blonde teenage girl being comforted by several similar girls on the screened-in side porch. He had a strong feeling she was the admiral’s daughter, but before he could go and talk to her, a woman who looked as though she could be her mother ushered her inside.

  * n c i s •



Gibbs talked to one of the guests, a woman who had come with her daughter to Ashley’s party. Although she hadn’t witnessed the attack on Admiral Kelsey, she’d seen Martin Antibo at the Kelsey home several times in the past two weeks. Indicating a nearby house, she explained, “I can see the pool from my back yard. I’ve seen him and Ashley out there, sunning themselves. She’s on the swim team and Faith – Mrs. Kelsey – hired the young man to coach her. They use the diving pool at the university for high-diving practice. I tutor at the university, and I ran into the young man – he said his name was Martin – while he was waiting for Ashley to come out. He was telling me he was an accomplished cliff diver in Europe. He mentioned some famous diving spot, the azure somethingorother…”

DiNozzo seemed impressed. “If he was talking about the Azure Window in Malta, the jump is something like ninety feet. It’s this incredible arch of rocks with deep water, good for high dives. Really beautiful.”

“Well, all I know is Ashley seemed really into him, hanging onto his arm and all that,” the neighbor said. “And the young man seemed to be enjoying the attention.”

As soon as they’d wrapped up the interviews, Gibbs sent DiNozzo and McGee to check out the pool house. “See if Antibo left anything there. Ziva, take photos of all the cars and their plates in the drive, and the ones parked in the road, too.”

As the NCIS agents scurried off to do their assigned jobs, a police lieutenant approached Gibbs, apparently intent upon speaking to him. Lieutenant Greenway wanted to know what the NCIS agents had found. Gibbs didn’t like sharing information with local LEOs because they often got in the way of his investigation, but he gave the lieutenant the bare bones in exchange for some insider intel on Admiral Kelsey and his family.

Greenway said it was common knowledge that the admiral had had so many affairs he must have had a revolving door in his bedroom. Mrs. Kelsey was a lot more discreet, apparently. Gibbs was not happy to learn that the police had already visited Antibo’s room at the university. They had found nothing incriminating but had someone watching in case he returned there. They parted with assurances they’d let each other know if they got a lead on Antibo’s whereabouts.

As Gibbs made his way down to the pool house, Ziva caught up to him. She trotted alongside, making an attempt to get a conversation going, but Gibbs wasn’t in the mood. He was still pissed at her attitude towards DiNozzo, which had included an unrelenting stream of snipes and barbs in recent weeks. He hadn’t interfered, believing DiNozzo would deal with Ziva on his own. He’d seen his SIC deflect various jabs and insults Ziva had thrown at him, but telling her to cease and desist – as DiNozzo had in the car – was a first. It seemed to have shut her up for the time being, but Gibbs was pretty sure she’d soon start poking at him again.

He had no idea what had made Ziva so antagonistic toward DiNozzo, but as far as he was concerned, it had to stop. For some reason, the Israeli seemed to think that DiNozzo was an easy mark. If she thought she could bully his SIC into submission, she was wrong, that much Gibbs knew. DiNozzo was tough as nails under those lightweight smiles and chatter, and if Ziva kept on with her taunting, DiNozzo wasn’t the only one who going to get mad.

For a moment, Gibbs wondered if he was being overly protective. If he favored DiNozzo in any way, it was because the man had earned his stripes, through years of hard work and loyalty. Hell, the guy was smart and intuitive, and… well, damned good to look at. And if he sometimes thought about DiNozzo’s green eyes and smiling mouth at inopportune times, nobody except himself was ever going to know about it.

With Kate, there had been some rivalry between her and DiNozzo; there wasn’t this underlying nastiness that was making everyone uncomfortable. Everyone except Ziva, that was. You’d have thought she’d have known it was wrong, but she seemed oblivious.

The sizable pool house overlooked a large rectangular pool, now deserted, surrounded by lounge chairs and tables with shade umbrellas. There was a single diving board at the far end, set only about five feet above the water; definitely not adequate for high-diving practice.

McGee greeted him inside a rec room, “Hey, Boss, we’re almost finished here.”

“Just have to fingerprint the bathroom,” DiNozzo said.

“Leave it, DiNozzo.” Gibbs jerked his chin in the direction of the main house. “You’re with me. We’re going to talk to the widow.”

Ziva immediately stood between him and DiNozzo. “I should assist you with Mrs. Kelsey, Gibbs.”

Gibbs’ eyebrows went up. “And why is that?”

“Because I am experienced at interrogating all types of witnesses and suspects,” was Ziva’s reasoning.

DiNozzo shoved the fingerprint kit in her hands and smiled at her. “And that’s exactly why _I_ should talk to her.”

“Because of your experience with women?” Ziva asked boldly.

“Because of my experience _talking_ to people dealing with grief,” DiNozzo replied curtly.

Gibbs was aware that during his years working in homicide, DiNozzo had done his fair share of informing people that a loved one had died, often through violent circumstances. DiNozzo had once told him that no matter how much he hated it, he’d rather it was himself doing the job than someone who didn’t care. To date, Gibbs hadn’t seen Ziva deal well with any distraught family member, or even show compassion to anyone.

“In Mossad, we do not show sympathy. It is a sign of weakness, as I am sure Gibbs will agree.”

DiNozzo replied, with an edge to his tone, “This is the widow of a decorated Naval officer. We can ask her questions and at the same time be empathetic. If you ever read all five volumes of our official NCIS manual, you’d be aware that NCIS agents do not resort to pulling out people’s fingernails or hooking electric wires to their balls to get answers, Ziva.”

“Well, maybe they _should_ ,” she spat, poking a finger in DiNozzo’s chest. “If they _had_ any balls, that is.”

DiNozzo raised his hands and for a moment Gibbs thought he was going to hit Ziva. Instead, he backed away, lips compressed in anger. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not an NCIS agent, Liaison Officer David,” he said.

Gibbs said curtly, “Enough, both of you. We have a job to do.” He took a firm hold of DiNozzo’s arm, and propelled him out the door.

  * n c i s •



Once they were outside, Tony shook him off. “Boss, I swear I haven’t done anything to make her want to keep attacking me.”

Gibbs sighed. He didn’t like seeing DiNozzo twisted up over Ziva’s constant barbs, but he couldn’t solve it right here and now. “Look, let her cool down.”

“And then what? Ziva isn’t going to let up just because I ask her to.” Discouraged, Tony let out a huff of breath. “You can’t expect me to be her punching bag all the time and not do anything about it. I don’t deserve that kind of shit from her.”

Gibbs laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I get it, DiNozzo, but you need to keep your head in the game. I’m depending on you.” After a pause, he asked, “You find anything in there?”

Gibbs could tell DiNozzo was disappointed in his lack of support, but his lead agent shook it off and focused on the investigation. “Looks like someone was using the couch in the rec room for some private partying recently,” said DiNozzo, all business. “We took samples. No condoms in the trash but I bagged everything. We don’t have proof yet, but I’ll bet Martin and the daughter have been having sex in the pool house.”

“Abby’ll be able to tell us, one way or the other,” Gibbs said.

On their way around to the front door, Gibbs stopped to have a look at all the guests’ cars parked around the driveway and along the road. “How did he get away? He didn’t have a car, and he didn’t take any, according to the kid doing the parking. Nobody saw him running down the road or across their back yard.”

“There’s no public transportation anywhere around here. Maybe someone picked him up, like a friend,” Tony suggested. “What I’d like to know is, why kill the admiral in front of a crowd? He could have waited until everyone was gone.”

  * n c i s •




	3. History

**CHAPTER 3 - HISTORY**

_Friday, April 17_

Tony snagged a box of tissues from the kitchen counter as they passed through on their way to the living room. It looked like Gibbs wanted him to act as a buffer between him and the grieving widow. Gibbs did not do well when faced with tears; he tensed and sat up a little straighter. Most people wouldn’t notice the slight change, but Tony did. He’d been with Gibbs long enough to have become attuned the many nuances of his body language. Sometimes he thought that maybe, just maybe, it was reciprocal, that Gibbs knew him just as well, but then there were times when Tony wasn’t quite so sure.

Right now Gibbs was doing a good imitation of a Marine at attention, so he must be wound up pretty tight inside. He offered condolences to Mrs. Kelsey, and sat opposite her on a comfortable couch. Tony chose a chair slightly to one side, so he could observe the woman they were questioning. She was a tanned, slim woman in her forties, with blonde hair framing her beautiful face. She wore a simple navy dress, and heavy gold bracelets that seemed to weigh down her delicate wrists. Tony would bet her casual outfit had set her back a good thousand dollars. Even though it was apparent she’d been crying from red-rimmed eyes, her makeup remained flawless.

Gibbs got right to the point. “Did your husband have a grievance of any kind with Martin Antibo?”

Mrs. Kelsey seemed surprised at the question. “No, of course not. They didn’t even know each other. Brian, my husband, arrived home only yesterday. That boy hasn’t been here since Tuesday, when he comes here to coach Ashley; otherwise, they’re at the university pool. My daughter has qualified for the state finals in swimming.” She smiled for a moment, proud of her daughter’s accomplishment. “But when he gate-crashed our party, Brian went over to ask him to leave. That’s the first time they ever met.”

And the last time they ever met, Tony thought. He noticed that Mrs. Kelsey had so far avoided saying Martin Antibo’s name. He asked, “Why did your husband ask Martin to leave?”

Mrs. Kelsey pursed her lips in disapproval. “Because he wasn’t invited. He didn’t belong here.”

Gibbs asked, “Do you know where Antibo may have gone? He have any friends you know of?”

“How on earth would I know?” Mrs. Kelsey asked, staring at Gibbs as if he were crazy.

“You met him, trusted him with your daughter. Perhaps she could help us…” Gibbs suggested.

“For God’s sake, her father just died! She is very upset, naturally, and unable to talk to anyone. Why are you asking me these questions? Shouldn’t you be out there, hunting down that… _person_ who killed my husband?”

Tears pooled in Mrs. Kelsey’s eyes and threatened to spill over so Tony handed her some tissues. While she was carefully mopping up the tears, Tony said, “We don’t want to intrude in your time of grief, ma’am, but we need to know everything about this man in order to catch him. We won’t rest until we do. So anything you or Ashley can tell us could be helpful.”

Mrs. Kelsey sniffed delicately and, after a moment, said, “He was an odd young man, always _watching_ you, like a cat, and not a _nice_ cat, either. More like one of those _feral_ cats you see all over the streets in Marrakech.” She said angrily, “I may not have liked that boy, but I was always generous to him. I loaned him one of Brian’s old bicycles because he didn’t have a car. I even allowed him to sleep in the pool house one night when he was here late one night. Look, I don’t understand any of this. He’s _ruined_ my life. Why would he do that? After everything I’ve done for him?”

Tony didn’t have answers to her questions, and from the look on Gibbs’ face, neither did he. They stayed a while, carefully inquiring about Mrs. Kelsey’s relationship with her husband, but it soon became apparent the woman knew nothing that would help solve the case – or assist them in locating Martin.

If they wanted to talk to Ashley, they would have to come back another time, Mrs. Kelsey said. On that point she was firm.

  * n c i s •



_Friday afternoon_

Martin Antibo’s room at the university was so clean that Tony checked with housekeeping to make sure they had the right room. “He must have cleaned it out before leaving,” Tony surmised. “Not even any trash. Took all his belongings with him. Starting to look like he went to that party with something bad in mind, Boss.”

“He knew he wasn’t coming back,” McGee said.

Ziva appeared in the doorway holding a gym bag, smiling like the cat who ate the canary. “Apparently Martin didn’t clean out his locker in the poll changing rooms.”

His eyes lighting up at the find, McGee stuck the bag in a large evidence bag, sealed and dated it. “We need to get this to Abby.”

Gibbs agreed and said they should go back to the Yard to regroup.

  * n c i s •



_Friday, late afternoon_

They grabbed some lunch on the run and convened back at the Navy Yard to figure out their next move.

Once he was back at his desk, McGee did his usual magic on the computer and confirmed that Martin Antibo had flown to the US from Italy only two weeks ago, right after his mom passed away. He rose and picked up the clicker for the plasma, and Tony and Gibbs joined him in front of it. Ziva sauntered over as if it was an afterthought.

As he put images on the plasma for all to see, McGee said, “Martin Antibo, no arrest record, is a US citizen. He was enrolled at a college in South Carolina in a boat building program. He dropped out after a year and went to Europe, worked on a couple of cruise ships and large charter boats. No record of any violence or any arrests, as far as I can tell.”

“Okay, so Mom’s deceased. You locate his father?” Tony asked.

“I did.” McGee put a military ID photo up on the plasma for all to see, as well as some forms he’d dug up. “Commander Salvatore Antibo, stationed at US Naval Air Station in Sigonella, deceased. He was a first class diver, married a local girl, but he was killed during a training exercise off the Italian coast over ten years ago. The officer in charge of training at that time was… oh… Captain Brian Kelsey. Kelsey was also there at the beginning of his career… about 22 years ago.”

Tony exclaimed, “Ah-hah! There’s our connection. Martin’s parents and Admiral Kelsey were all in Italy at the same time.” Tony peered at the screen. “It looks like Kelsey has made regular visits there over the years, as Chief of European Operations, Sixth Fleet out of Naples.”

Gibbs interjected, “Any charges against Kelsey in Commander Antibo’s death… negligence…?”

“It was classified as an accident, and another man also died,” Ziva read on the screen.

“Now his mom just passed away, Martin’s alone,” Gibbs said. “No ties to anyone or any place. He could be anywhere.”

“The good side is we may have a motive,” Tony pointed out. “The kid has probably plotted all the ways he’d kill the man who he blames for his dad’s death – and he’s had the past ten years to get up one hell of a head of steam.”

“It is possible he did not know the details of his father’s death,” Ziva pointed out.

Tony mused, “You mean he may have gotten the whitewashed view from Mom? ‘Your dad died a hero, son.’”

“Or perhaps he only recently learned about what occurred, and that Admiral Kelsey was in charge. He would most certainly place the blame on him,” Ziva said with a nod.

McGee clicked through some search results on the plasma. “There’s no credit card or any other paper trail on Martin. If he has a cell phone it must be a burner, and nobody we talked to, including the university, had his number. He doesn’t have a car, but he has a South Carolina driver’s license.” He put a picture of the license up on the screen.

The headshot on Martin’s license was taken more recently than his passport picture, from the looks of it, but he had the same longish dark, unkempt hair, and a slight smirk on a youthful, attractive face.

Gibbs growled, “Keep digging. Widen the BOLO, include all ports along the east coast. Find the man! DiNozzo, go see what Abby has for us.”

  * n c i s •



“Tony, Tony, Tony!” Abby grabbed Tony by the hand the moment he entered the lab. She dragged him inside and shut the door behind him.

“Well, someone’s excited. Something good to tell me?” Tony asked with a smile.

Jumping up and down in her four-inch-heeled platform boots, Abby exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! DNA does not lie!”

Tony calmed her down and then listened to her detailed report on the DNA results on the admiral’s body, and about the fluids found on the pool house couch. He had to slow her down a couple of times, but the end result suggested not only a motive, but created a whole new set of questions. “Okay, so you found a small amount of blood on Admiral Kelsey’s body that belonged to his attacker.”

“Yes. I compared the samples you got from the pool house with samples from the gym bag, and they both match Martin Antibo,” Abby confirmed.

“And the second set of DNA we pulled off the couch in the pool house is from…?” Tony waited patiently for Abby’s reply.

Abby nodded vigorously. “It belongs to Ashley Kelsey. And, DNA samples 1 and 2 were co-mingled. They had sex with each other. Well, the DNA didn’t have sex, the two people did. And… drum roll please…” Tony obliged, beating out a rhythm on the counter until Abby raised her hand. “And the two people having sex share the same father.”

That made Tony pause. “Wait, the same father? You mean…”

“Same father, different mothers.”

“And the father is…?”

“Our recently departed Admiral Brian Kelsey!”

Well, that certainly made things interesting. “You’re absolutely sure?”

Abby slapped Tony’s arm for questioning her findings. “Tony!”

“Sorry! I had to ask.” It took a moment for Tony to digest the new info. “The admiral must have met Martin’s mother when he was first stationed in Sicily.”

Abby nodded. “Yep.”

“A little wine, a little loving…”

“Yep,” Abby said again.

“Well, fuck.”

“Yep,” Abby said with a huge smile.

  * n c i s •



Back in the bullpen, Martin’s license was still up on the plasma. Tony picked up the clicker and added the headshot of Martin’s father, Commander Salvatore Antibo, to the screen. Ziva, McGee and Gibbs looked on with curiosity. After a pause, he put Admiral Kelsey’s official ID picture on-screen, so the three were lined up with Martin in the middle.

“It turns out,” Tony said, “that 22 years ago, Kelsey, at the time a captain, made nice with a Sicilian girl named Francesca… but Kelsey soon returned to Virginia to marry a pretty blonde socialite named Faith, the current Mrs. Kelsey. Francesca, on the rebound, then married a young American sailor stationed nearby – Salvatore Antibo – and bore him a son: Martin.” He smiled and said, “Abby ran DNA on the fluids at the scene, and has determined that this man…” He pointed to the photo of Admiral Kelsey. “…is our little killer Martin’s biological father.”

Ziva frowned at the three faces on the screen. “But that is Ashley’s father.”

“And,” Tony said with a flourish, “Martin had sex with Ashley the night before her sweet sixteen party.” He heard Gibbs swear under his breath.

With the three men’s images lined up on-screen, it was clear the young fugitive had a strong resemblance ­– not to the man he’d called Dad – but to Admiral Kelsey.

McGee exclaimed, “Shit, he looks like the admiral. The kid murdered his own father?”

Ziva questioned, “You are positive that Martin and Ashley are brother and sister?”

“Half-brother and sister. Abby stands by her results,” Tony said, wondering how much more messed up could this case get.

When Ziva looked repulsed and said, “Incest!” Tony replied, “You know, incest is legal in a surprising amount of countries – so long as you’re over 21 – in some parts of South America and Europe, plus Russia, Japan – _and_ Israel. There have been lots of films about incestuous relationships. Haven’t you seen _Harry + Max_ , _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ , or _The Crow,_ with half-siblings Top Dollar and Myca? And let’s not forget _Star Wars_ with Luke and– ”

“Enough, DiNozzo!” Gibbs interceded before anyone could say another word. “Everyone, you will keep this information to yourselves, and if I hear even a hint of talk about it, you’ll be fired. That goes for all of you!”

  * n c i s •



_Friday, early evening_

After a brief meeting with Director Vance, Gibbs returned to the bullpen. He was ready to head home, but he first wanted to make sure his agents had already left. As he approached, he could hear DiNozzo and McGee talking, so he slowed down and stood in the blind spot – behind a tall partition – that he’d used many a time to eavesdrop on his agents’ conversations.

“C’mon, McSleepy, just one drink,” DiNozzo pleaded. “I need to wind down. If I go home straight away, I’ll end up binge-watching incest-themed movies all night, and I’ll be shit tomorrow. And Gibbs’ll get annoyed I’m working so slowly, he’ll make you help me out and there’s a ton of paperwork that needs–”

“All right, all right! Stop!” McGee, who had already powered down and was collecting his things to head home, sighed. “Why don’t you just go for a run and have a hot shower. You’ll be able to sleep just fine.”

“I can’t run. My knee’s been acting up,” Tony whined.

“Go to the gym and use the pool. They don’t close until eleven,” McGee said impatiently.

“If you come with me, I’ll show you the latest photos,” DiNozzo enticed, holding up his iPad.

McGee perked up, looking interested. “You mean you have pictures of…?”

“Yeah, I edited the best ones, and man, some are incredible!”

“Okay, I want to see the pictures but I’m not going to a bar,” McGee said firmly.

“All right. How about Abby’s lab? She’s still here. We can look at them in private there.”

Gibbs waited until his two agents were in the elevator, then did a 180 and took the stairs down to the next level. The content of these photos they’d been talking about had him intrigued. Knowing DiNozzo, the photos he was about to share with McGee were likely to be ‘not work-safe.’ On the other hand, it wasn’t like McGee to be interested in anything lurid. He hoped to God they weren’t images of people involved in incestuous relationships or anything like that.

Gibbs waited in the shadows for the two men to enter Abby’s lab before walking quietly down the corridor to the lab’s back door. It was a rarely used emergency exit, but he had the access code and, best of all, no alarms or dings rang out when he entered.

He heard the sound of voices, slightly muffled by the heavy glass sliding door that separated the main lab from Abby’s office space. The lights were low, but he could see Abby sitting at her desk, her face illuminated by her computer screen. McGee was standing beside DiNozzo, who was leaning over her with a hand on her shoulder. He was pointing at something on-screen that was fascinating all three of them.

“You should have seen the size of it,” DiNozzo exclaimed. “You really need to see this in person.”

McGee agreed, but he said, “If we get caught…”

“I’m telling you, there was nobody around. The dust on the floor was ten years old.”

“One day we’ll get arrested, Tony,” McGee warned.

“I’m willing to take the risk. Sign me up,” Abby said excitedly.

Having heard enough to know his people were up to no good, Gibbs stepped up to the glass door, and it whooshed open. His agents and Abby looked up, startled. DiNozzo straightened and quickly asked, “You need me, Boss?” He stepped in front of the screen so Gibbs couldn’t see what was on it.

Gibbs asked plainly, “You people planning something I should know about?”

Abby peered around DiNozzo, and waved Gibbs closer. “Gibbs, Gibbs! You have to see this!”

Immediately Tony shushed her and said tersely, “No, _don’t_.”

“Don’t be silly, Tony. These are so good, I want Gibbs to see them.”

Reluctantly, DiNozzo moved aside to allow Gibbs access to the computer screen. It wasn’t what he expected. The photo was of what appeared to be the interior an abandoned industrial building. He could make out an enormous room the size of a warehouse, with the remains of huge turbines and defunct machines, corroded barrels and rusty chains sitting in pools of water, lit by shafts of sunlight streaming in factory windows half-covered in overgrown vegetation.

Abby tapped her keyboard and another photo appeared, a close-up of a panel covered in dials, partially obscured in dust and grime. The next was a tight shot of gears, and the following image, an old desk with a cracked coffee cup sitting on old paperwork, covered in heavy dust. All the photographs, about twenty of them, were of the grimy remains of what looked like a long-ago-closed power plant. They were powerful, haunting, and lonely.

Gibbs remained silent when Abby had finished showing him DiNozzo’s photos. He could have said a lot of things, including, “Are you crazy, taking the risk, going to that place? Your lungs…” Instead, he asked, “Where did you take these?”

The tension in DiNozzo’s shoulders eased and he said, “Baltimore,” and he, and McGee and Abby started to tell him about some of the abandoned places they’d visited: a decaying theme park overgrown with vines in Maryland; the Forest Haven Asylum with its horrific reminders of the abuses and deaths that had occurred there, including a shock treatment room and a mass grave; and the granite stones from the Capitol’s East Portico, from when it was disassembled during 1958 renovations, located deep inside the Rock Creek Park.

DiNozzo said, with barely concealed excitement, “We’ve been talking about going to Europe, to see the Canfranc Railway Station. It’s between France and Spain, and was used by the Resistance. The place was really opulent and stories are it’s largely untouched since it closed in 1950. McGeek wants to see the psychedelic salt mines in Yekaterinburg.”

“You should see the pictures of it online, Boss. The walls are covered in incredible swirls of color from mineral deposits. We can apply to get a permit to go into the tunnels,” McGee quickly explained.

Gibbs looked at the three eager faces, then back to one of DiNozzo’s images still on-screen. “You do this… why?”

They did their best to explain the fascination with overgrown and crumbling buildings, talking about the beauty and history.

DiNozzo said, “I love seeing the architecture through the lens. Urban decay can be beautiful, and I want to document it.” McGee explained it was the historical aspect, and the mystery of what had gone on there, seeing the remnants of people’s lives just left behind. But it was Abby’s shrug and comment that she loved urban exploring because “It’s creepy and we’re not supposed to be in half these places,” that seemed to get to the root of the matter.

“And, Tony has written articles for _Secret Places_ , the urban explorer’s online magazine,” Abby said enthusiastically. “And they published Tim’s photos just last month, of ten secret places to explore around DC.” She held onto Tim’s arm and gave him a hug.

  * n c i s •



McGee stayed behind to help Abby close everything down for the night, so Gibbs ended up alone in the elevator with DiNozzo. He turned to the younger man and said, “Nice photos. You have a good eye.”

“Thanks, Gibbs,” DiNozzo replied, sounding a bit taken aback.

“You’ve got more?”

“Uh… sure. Lots of them.”

“Show them to me next time I come over,” Gibbs said, jockeying for an invitation.

“Okay. Next week?” DiNozzo asked.

Gibbs nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Just… you be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

DiNozzo stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “But that’s half the fun.”

Gibbs snorted. Yeah, he got that. “And get some sleep. We start early tomorrow,” he said as a parting shot.

  * n c i s •




	4. The Witness

**CHAPTER 4 - THE WITNESS**

_Morning, Saturday, April 18_

They started early the next morning, but after several hours they were no closer to finding Martin Antibo. They’d followed several leads, had checked out everywhere he’d hung out, talked to people, made phone calls, and checked street security video feeds around the university. Still no sign of him.

Tony was in favor of the theory that Martin had holed up somewhere, and was waiting for things to cool down. McGee thought he was long gone, hitched a ride from someone. Ziva believed the fugitive was a paid assassin who’d had help, or an accomplice, and was being smuggled out of the country on a tramp steamer. So, with no real leads, Gibbs sent Tony back to the Kelsey residence to interview the admiral’s daughter, who was finally able to talk with them.

As he drove alone to Alexandria, Tony thought about Ziva and her attitude towards him. She’d pretty much ignored him since he’d related Abby’s find that Martin and Ashley were half-siblings. He’d approached Ziva at work this morning, and tried to make amends. It hadn’t gone very well. She had refused to meet his eyes and brushed past him with her nose in the air.

Instead of worrying over whatever bug had crawled up her ass, or what he could (or couldn’t) do about it, Tony directed his mind to something a whole lot more interesting: Gibbs.

He’d caught Gibbs looking at him a few times the past couple of weeks, not a ‘what the hell’s he doing now?’ kind of grouchy glare, but more of… well, a sort of introspective look. Like Gibbs was weighing him up, and had plans for him – plans Tony had a feeling he wasn’t going to like. It was making him nervous. And on the flip side, what was with the ‘be careful out there’ concern Gibbs had shown after he’d found out that his agents, along with Abby, had been sneaking into buildings that were dangerous and off-limits as a hobby?

But finding out that Gibbs was anxious about his safety – he had said, “ _You_ be careful,” after all – had brought on a warm and fuzzy feeling he hadn’t expected. Knowing that Gibbs cared enough about him to not only show this kind of concern, but to praise his photography and say he’d like to see more. Tony knew he was a sap for praise, and no, he didn’t get much of it, never had, but there as something about the way Gibbs had looked at him, with no judgment and maybe even a bit of insight, that had made him feel deep down good.

He had always admired Gibbs – despite his faults, because who didn’t have faults? – for his focus and fairness, bravery and loyalty. But Tony had also harbored a kind of low-level attraction to the man, too. Who wouldn't be struck by those piercing blue eyes, or his physique, and even his military bearing? Yeah, something could be done with his hair, and let’s not talk about his boxy, functional wardrobe, but the man was… well, he was sexy, especially when he gave one of those rare smiles of his. Okay, so he found Leroy Jethro Gibbs sexy.

Not that he’d ever act upon his desires, even if there were times – like that one occasion when Gibbs bent over and displayed his fine ass in fitted jeans Abby had bought for him – when he’d felt his face heat up with a degree of lust that one should not have for one’s boss. Nope, not going there. He didn’t – _couldn't_ – have any feelings for Gibbs. If any started to come to mind, he made sure to quash them before it went too far. Thinking about the silver-haired man as anything but his stalwart boss was just plain crazy. To do so would be the end of everything. He’d have to leave his job, the state, and maybe even the country if Gibbs ever got wind of it. So, no. Just no.

With a big sigh, Tony focused on the investigation. He liked to go over the evidence in his mind as he drove, and sometimes a bright thought would pop into his head. By the time Tony pulled up at the Kelsey home, he’d gone over everything they knew about the case, backwards and forwards, and all he was left with was questions: why had Martin killed Admiral Kelsey? Did he blame him for his father’s death? Probably. Did he know Admiral Kelsey was his birth-father? Possibly.

And another, darker thought had arisen, that Martin had known he shared a father with Ashley, and yet had sex with her anyway. Getting back at the admiral in some twisted kind of way?

It was possible that Martin had only just learned about Admiral Kelsey, from his dying mother. Knowing you’re about to die had made many a person reveal old family secrets. God knows what she’d told him on her deathbed.

But, most importantly, where the hell was Martin now? They needed to find him before he skipped the country.

At the Kelsey house, Mrs. Kelsey answered the door. She ushered Tony into a quiet sunroom where Ashley was waiting, and shut the door behind her as she left. It was as if she didn’t want to hear what her daughter had to say. Or, she already knew it all.

Ashley looked younger than her sixteen years, with her ash blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a pale blue T-shirt. She seemed comfortable talking to Tony about the man who had killed her father. In fact, she talked about Martin as if he had had nothing to do with her father’s death.

The young woman spoke quietly and showed little emotion. Martin, she said, always had a story to tell. “It was hard to tell if all they were all true, but I didn’t care. He was funny and sweet, and… he’d never hurt anyone.” As she spoke, Ashley must have remembered that Martin had kimbo-sliced her father to death on the manicured lawn in front of thirty teenaged girls and their parents – and she faltered. “Although… I guess nobody knows how they’ll act in certain situations until they happen, do they?”

“What was the situation that drove Martin to attack your father?”

Ashley shook her head, but Tony wasn’t sure if she was saying she didn’t know, or if she simply didn’t want to say.

“He talk to you about his background?” Tony asked, trying another tack. He wondered if Ashley knew about Martin and his family tree, and that they were half-siblings.

The girl said that Martin bragged about working on big yachts, all over Europe, during the charter season. Not sailing though, motor yachts. He was a military brat who had moved around with his parents when he was a kid, both in the US and Europe. “His dad died when he was eleven, where he was stationed in Italy. Some kind of diving accident. He got tangled in some debris the Navy was supposed to recover. It hit Martin really hard, his dad dying. He said his mom would never talk about it.”

“How’d you meet Martin?”

Ashley smiled and said, “I was hanging out at the pool with friends, at the university, and he came around. He was flirting with all the girls. I convinced Mom I needed a coach for swimming, so Martin would come over and…we’d hang out afterwards and talk and stuff. He always had time for me. We became sort of… close. It’s hard to explain, but he was…”

“He was like a… big brother to you?” Tony asked. Martin Antibo was five years her senior and he didn’t know too many guys that age who’d hang out with a teenage girl – unless they wanted something more than just being friends.

Ashley’s cheeks grew pink. She pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “I guess.”

“Your mother doesn’t think much of him. But you like him?” Tony asked carefully.

She was quick to say, “Mom’s a snob.”

“And he likes you, a lot?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, smiling to herself while looking down at her hands in her lap.

Tony nodded understandingly. “Martin’s a good-looking guy. He pays attention to you. That must be nice. Maybe he showed you how much he liked you, in the pool house? That’s a cozy set-up there, nice and private… he made moves on you? Kissing… touching you… maybe doing some things you weren’t comfortable with…”

She raised her eyes, startled. “What? No! It isn’t like that. It isn’t… _dirty_. He really cares about me...” Ashley stood up, looking like a young, haughty version of her mother. “I won’t listen to you saying nasty things like that about Martin.”

Tony quickly rose and stepped between Ashley and the exit. Time to press a bit harder; no more Mr. Nice Guy. “Martin killed your father, right out there in the back yard. In front of your mother, and all your guests. Why’d you think he did that?”

“Don’t say that! He didn’t do it,” she cried.

“Did he have some beef with your dad?” Tony asked. “I don't get it. Your mother said he didn’t even know him. They’d never met before.”

The girl shook her head and bit her bottom lip.

Tony reminded her that they owed it to her dad to get the whole picture, and that he deserved justice, that her mother needed to know or else she’d never be at peace. “Just tell me exactly what happened. I’m not here to judge. Help me to understand.”

Ashley slowly sat on the couch, looking defeated. It took her a while, but eventually she said in a small voice, “Last night, I was at the pool house. Dad came looking for me.”

“He found you with Martin?”

Ashley nodded. “It was really late. God, Dad was so angry. I’ve never seen him like that. He made me go back to the house, but I waited on the porch. He was threatening Martin, being mean to him. It isn’t fair! We just want to be together. Nothing my parents can say is going to stop me from being with him.”

One parent down, Tony thought. “You overheard their conversation?”

Ashley laughed humorlessly. “My dad has this big voice. You know, the one the admiral uses to scare the new recruits. Hard not to overhear him. I could see them, too. The lights were on at the pool.” She took a deep breath and said, “I guess Mom filled Dad in on everything since he’d been away, and he wanted to meet Martin… But all of a sudden, Dad stopped yelling. He went quiet, and then I heard him say something like, ‘It was so long ago.’ Martin got really angry. He pushed my dad and punched him.”

“Did your father punch him back?” He hadn’t seen any defensive wounds on the admiral’s hands when they’d inspected his body.

“No. He kept his hands up, trying to stop Martin, but then he pushed him and… Martin fell back. I heard him yell, ‘You killed my father!’ and I didn’t hear what Dad was saying, but I could tell Martin didn’t want to listen. He seemed even angrier. He said something to Dad, and they both sort of… froze.”

“What did he say?”

“I’m not sure… I… I don't think I heard it right.”

“Tell me what you think you heard then,” Tony said.

Ashley thought for a long moment and then said, very slowly, “‘You’re… not… my father.’” She looked to Tony for an answer. “I don’t get it. Of course my dad isn’t his father.”

So she didn’t know. Tony couldn't reveal what they’d discovered about her father being Martin’s real father. Instead, he asked what happened next.

Ashley said her father was furious. He yelled at Martin to get off his property, that next time he saw him he’d shoot him on sight. Martin ran off into the dark and her father forced her inside the house. “Dad wouldn't even look at me. His face was all red and angry. As soon as I thought he was asleep, I snuck out to look for Martin, but he was gone. I didn’t see him again until he turned up at my party.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Only for a minute. He told me everything would be all right, and that he loved me and… one of my friends interrupted and I turned away, and when I looked back, Martin was gone. I heard my mother scream. Dad was lying on the grass, bleeding. They say Martin did it, but he wouldn’t have done it… he couldn't… I mean… he _loves_ me.”

“He stabbed your father, Ashley. He killed him.” How could the girl be so blind?

“No! No. You’re lying!”

“And now he’s on the run, and the cops are looking for him, and if you don’t tell me where he is, things are going to go badly for him,” Tony warned.

Ashley shook her head and sent Tony a defiant look. “It’s all ruined now,” she complained, saying the same thing her mother had. “Martin is my best friend. He’s my _boy_ friend.” She glared at Tony and said, “And I don’t care what anyone thinks. I know, in my heart, we belong together.”

Only, your best friend, your lover, your half-brother… murdered your father, Tony thought. But she loved him, and when you’re sixteen and in love, and it seems as though all the world’s against you, it only makes you all the more determined. Tony hardened his heart and said sternly, “His only chance is if I get to him before the cops do, because they’ll shoot him on sight. Is that what you want? For him to end up bleeding to death in some back alley? To never be able to see him again? What’s his cell phone number?”

  * n c i s •




	5. The Rescue

**CHAPTER 5 - THE RESCUE**

_Noon, Saturday, April 18_

“Sorry, Boss, the girl wouldn't give it up. She said she didn’t know his cell number.” DiNozzo was driving back to the Yard, and was on speaker-phone with the team.

“So much for the sweet in sweet sixteen,” Gibbs said. From what DiNozzo had told him, Ashley wasn’t quite the innocent they’d first assumed.

“I’m monitoring her calls but so far she hasn’t placed any,” McGee said.

Ziva said sweetly, “Perhaps this is a good time to threaten to rip off all her pretty pink fingernails. I can make her talk. What is this ‘sweet sixteen’ anyway?”

Over the phone, DiNozzo said, “It’s a coming-of-age party. A celebration of becoming an adult. Father-daughter dance, the candle ceremony, expensive gifts…”

“This is something you had as a teen, Tony?” Ziva inquired.

“It’s a girl thing,” DiNozzo said. “What did Daddy give you for yours? Combat boots and an Uzi?”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs warned. He sent a sharp look Ziva’s way and she held her tongue.

DiNozzo said, “I thought about taking her passport, but on the off-chance Martin contacts her, and she wants to run away with him, I figured it would be best to let her keep it. Maybe she’ll lead us to him. Probie, you monitoring the house phone?”

“And her mother’s cell as well,” McGee said promptly. “She’s been calling a pre-paid phone the past couple of weeks. Lots of calls to the same number, but there’s no way of tracing them.”

“Monitor her father’s phone, too, in case she’s using it,” DiNozzo suggested.

“DiNozzo, did you put trackers on the vehicles?” Gibbs asked. McGee and Ziva were currently checking crew and passengers of all boats, of all sizes, leaving the DC area. There was a tri-state manhunt going on right now, with the FBI handling some of the groundwork.

“Yep. There were a couple of SUVs and a Mercedes sedan in the garage. The local LEOs are keeping an eye on the house in case Martin decides to return,” said DiNozzo. “Oh, crap! Her car!”

Gibbs said, “She just turned sixteen, doesn’t even have a license.”

“I’ll bet the parents gave her a car for her birthday,” DiNozzo exclaimed. “Sorry, Boss, I didn’t even ask.”

Gibbs turned to McGee, who immediately reported, “I already checked and there’s no vehicle listed in her name. And all of them, including the guests’ cars, were accounted for.”

“No, it’ll be under her father’s name,” DiNozzo said over the phone.

It only took a few moments for McGee to discover that Admiral Kelsey had, indeed, bought his daughter a car for her sixteenth birthday. “A BMW convertible in ‘liquid blue,’” he informed them.

“Well, it wasn’t in the garage, or in the driveway. I’d have noticed a car like that. Damn, she must have given Martin the keys. I’m only a few minutes from the Yard,” DiNozzo said and hung up.

Gibbs didn’t have to tell McGee to find the car dealer who’d sold the admiral the car, in order to track it using its onboard system. By the time DiNozzo walked into the bullpen, they had located Ashley’s car remotely, in a long-term parking lot near the docks in Annapolis.

Gibbs called out, “Grab your gear. The tide waits for no man.”

  * • n c i s ••



_Afternoon, Saturday, April 18_

Gibbs’ team had checked with all the large and small charters and even commercial ships to see if Martin Antibo was a passenger on any of them. Nobody had seen the fugitive. It wasn’t until they were standing by Ashley’s abandoned liquid blue BMW in a parking lot in Annapolis, deciding on what their next step would be, that they finally got a good lead.

A woman from Venture Charters phoned McGee’s cell and informed him that a Martin Antibo had taken a last-minute job opening on one of the luxury charter boats. “The booking agency just faxed his papers over, so I called you. He’s on _The Valiant_. He’s had experience as crew and they were short-handed, so it was a bit of a rush. They’re leaving for Canada today,” she said. “No passengers, just Captain Carol Drummond and a crew of fifteen. It’s a big boat.”

Gibbs arranged for the Coast Guard to take them out to _The Valiant_ , now anchored in the Chesapeake. Once they boarded, and DiNozzo and McGee had stopped gawking at the luxurious yacht, they went below and systematically searched the boat for the fugitive. All crew members were rounded up and escorted to the main deck. Once they were assembled, they did a headcount, but unfortunately, Martin Antibo was not among them.

Gibbs went up to the wheelhouse to use the ship’s intercom to instruct Martin, wherever he was hiding, to give himself up. He had only just broadcast his message, hoping to flush the young man out, when he heard the cry, “Man overboard!”

  * • n c i s ••



“DiNozzo!” Gibbs pushed his way to the railing and looked over the side. The water was disturbed where DiNozzo had gone in, but there was no sign of him. Shit, it must have been a 24-foot drop into the water; at least Tony had gone in feet-first. “DiNozzo!” he yelled, then, in a panic, “Tony!” There was no sign of him; Gibbs felt a stab of fear. Damn it, trust the idiot to try to bring in their suspect by joining him in the cold, dark water. That was the Coast Guard’s job, not theirs. But no, Tony had to do the heroic, stupid thing, damn it!

All of a sudden, DiNozzo burst to the surface, gasping, and cheers erupted from the crew. Gibbs heaved a sigh of relief, and tried to tamp down his anger at DiNozzo’s foolish act. His agent had one arm around the man who had gone overboard; the man was limp, apparently unconscious. They threw DiNozzo a life-saver, and once he had a secure hold on it, he was pulled over to the tail of the boat where there was a swimming platform close to the water level. Several sets of hands got Martin out of the water, and he was laid upon the deck. One of the crew immediately began CPR.

Even after a dripping wet, heavily breathing and exhausted DiNozzo was safely aboard, Gibbs’ heart was going a mile a minute. He was going to have to have a word with his second-in-command, about taking unnecessary risks, and scaring the shit out of him. If Tony had been hurt… or killed… Gibbs didn’t want to even think about it.

One of the women handed DiNozzo a couple of towels and he sat on a deck chair, never taking his eyes off Martin Antibo. Crewmembers continued to administer CPR, and a Coast Guard officer came aboard with their own life-pack and used the defibrillator on him, but it had been several minutes and there was still no sign of life.

DiNozzo was hunched over, shivering in his wet clothes, and Gibbs decided this was enough; he needed to get his agent inside and warmed up. He had to call Tony’s name twice before he looked at him, and even then, it was only for a couple of seconds. “I’m fine, Boss,” was all Tony said before turning back to watch the people working hard to get a response from Martin. It was becoming apparent that they were not going to be able to revive the man. To their credit, the crew and the Coast Guard officers worked long past the point most people would have, and when the senior Coast Guard officer called a halt to their efforts, there was silence on deck.

DiNozzo stood and faced Gibbs, his expression impassive. He dropped the towels on the deck chair. “I’ll go and process his quarters.”

Concerned, Gibbs reached out and took hold of his second-in-command’s upper arm. “No, McGee can do it.”

DiNozzo said tiredly, “I want to do it, Boss. It won’t take long. I saw his bag on his bunk. He hadn’t even unpacked.”

McGee came to their side and handed DiNozzo his discarded NCIS jacket, shoes and gun. He looked worriedly at the sodden agent. “You okay, Tony? That was one hell of a jump you took. They’re saying Antibo must have hit the water wrong, going head-first.”

DiNozzo gave his partner a small smile. “Yeah, but feet-first sure doesn’t look as pretty as a swan dive.”

“Better than breaking your neck,” Gibbs said harshly.

For a long moment, Tony stared at him, but instead of saying anything, he simply nodded.

A woman approached, one of the stewards, and said, “Agent DiNozzo, if you want to come in, the captain says you can use her quarters to have a hot shower, something to drink. We can get you something dry to wear…”

At first, Gibbs thought DiNozzo would refuse, but, with a sigh, he nodded and followed the woman.

  * • n c i s ••



_Late afternoon, Saturday, April 18_

The elevator opened and out spilled DiNozzo and McGee. As usual, DiNozzo was doing all the talking, describing the understated opulence of Captain Carol’s quarters aboard the ocean-going yacht, the incredible bathroom, the heated robe he was given to wear, and the mug of piping hot Ethiopian coffee she’d pressed into his hands. “Man, did you see the girls working on that boat? How’d they all get so cute? Oh, hey, Boss. We were just talking about–.”

“Maybe you want to go back and bunk with Captain Carol,” Gibbs snapped, “while I head down to autopsy to make sure the body gets properly ID’d.” Damn, DiNozzo looked good in his borrowed clothes: white shorts that were a little too snug, and a blue shirt that had _The_ _Valiant_ embroidered over his heart. For some reason, seeing DiNozzo dressed in the yacht crew’s uniform really annoyed him.

“Well, no, I’m good, Boss,” DiNozzo replied, almost meekly. “Not going anywhere.”

Ziva looked DiNozzo up and down before focusing on his shorts. “This is the new NCIS dress code, Prince Valiant?”

DiNozzo chuckled and replied, “‘Fraid not, Queen of the Misty Isles.” From the expression on her face, it was evident Ziva didn’t get the reference.

Gibbs walked over and practically got in DiNozzo’s face. “You sure you’re gonna be here tomorrow? Someone has to escort Ms. Kelsey down to Autopsy, when she comes in. So she can see, with her own eyes, the man who killed her father is really dead.” Orders had come down from the top to treat Ashley with kid gloves, and to allow her to view Martin’s body.

DiNozzo grew serious and stood at attention. “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do it, Boss.”

Gibbs leaned close to DiNozzo and spoke quietly, so only he could hear. “You took your sweet time coming to the surface. That could be you down in autopsy, on a slab. I don’t want you to do anything like that, _ever_ again. You understand?”

DiNozzo said slowly, “I’ll try not to do it again, Boss.”

“No, there is no trying, just doing.”

A slow smile appeared and DiNozzo said, “Holy crap, Gibbs is quoting Yoda!”

That made McGee laugh, and DiNozzo joined in, and even Ziva cracked a smile. Gibbs snorted and said, “I’ll be with Ducky.” He’d only taken a few steps when he stopped and called over his shoulder, “You coming, or what, DiNozzo?”

“On your stern, Boss!”

“And put on some pants!”

  * • n c i s ••



_Evening, Saturday, April 18_

They’d done everything they could do for the day, and his people were flagging. Although Martin Antibo had only been aboard _The Valiant_ for a few hours, several of the crew knew him from previous charters.

One young woman, Megan, had known Martin for several years. She said he’d been good at his job but wanted to design boats, not work on them. “He partied, slept around, like a lot of us, but… he didn’t connect with people. It was like he was always holding back. He could be funny, but I had this feeling sometimes that he was putting it on.”

Martin hadn’t been aboard long enough to have a conversation with anyone, so they were no further forward as to his motive.

McGee pointed out, “Does it really matter what his reason was? Martin had just found out that Admiral Kelsey may have been the cause of his father’s death. And that Kelsey had deserted his mother when she was pregnant with him. Adding fuel to the fire, Martin had just gotten caught having sex with an underage girl, who also happened to be his half-sister, and then Admiral Kelsey threatened him over it. Plus, the admiral was throwing him off his property. Plenty of reasons for him to want to kill the man.”

Gibbs glanced at his watch and saw it was almost 2100. “Alright, everyone, we’ll call it a night. Finish up whatever you’re working on and then you can go.”

Five minutes later, Ziva was gone, and McGee was closing down his computer. DiNozzo was still perusing one of several diaries they had found in Martin’s bag, along with a package of letters and important papers. The diaries had been written by Martin’s mother, Francesca, in Sicilian, and DiNozzo was the only agent in the building who had a working knowledge of the language. He was intently reading the entries, occasionally writing brief notes on a notepad.

Gibbs approached and asked, “Getting anywhere?”

DiNozzo looked up blankly, then focused. “Oh, yeah. This is the earliest diary, from 1987. Seems like Francesca really fell for our admiral – not that that was his rank at the time. So, Kelsey took her out, spent his free time with her for… looks like about four months. They even had a romantic weekend in Naples. If I’m reading this right, he made her promises… and then, without any warning, he just went back to the States. He deserted her after months of courting her. She fully expected to be his wife. It’s really sad.”

“Take a break from it,” Gibbs suggested.

With a sigh, DiNozzo shut the diary and zipped it back into a clear evidence bag. He stretched, his shirt riding up just enough so Gibbs caught a glimpse of his stomach, nicely covered in brown hair that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Gibbs managed to drag his eyes away from that small slice of enticing skin, thinking he really wanted to see more, a lot more.

Clearing his throat, Gibbs said, “One of my friends has a restaurant.” DiNozzo was busy clearing up his desk but he nodded, showing he was listening, so Gibbs continued, “I thought I’d head down there… it’s only a few blocks from here… get something to eat.”

DiNozzo shut down his programs and computer, and stood. “Mmm, sounds great, Boss. Have fun.”

Gibbs didn’t move, even when he could tell that DiNozzo was puzzling why he was still standing there, blocking his way. Without really thinking it out, Gibbs blurted, “Join me.” DiNozzo opened his mouth – to refuse, Gibbs could tell – so he quickly said, “I’d like some company. I’d like… _you_ to have dinner with me.”

DiNozzo stared at him for a good long time. He tilted his head a little to one side, and asked, “It’s sort of late and I’m tired, but… it’s near here?”

“Yeah, on the waterfront near Nationals Park. It’s called The Urban Bass.” Gibbs saw DiNozzo’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“The Urban Bass?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your friend’s restaurant?”

“Yeah. Nick Oliver. Known him for a while. He’s the chef, too.”

“And you can get us a table?” DiNozzo asked, as if he was dubious, or thought Gibbs didn’t know what he was talking about. “At The Urban Bass?”

“Yeah!” Gibbs was getting impatient. “I went last week. The pan-seared monkfish in wine was very good. Had this garlic butter sauce…”

DiNozzo held up his hands. “Wait a minute! It’s impossible to get a reservation at this restaurant. How’d you do it? You already ate there and didn’t tell us?”

Abby walked into the bullpen with McGee trailing behind. “Did I hear someone say The Urban Bass?”

DiNozzo turned to her, put his hands on his hips and said, “Apparently our boss has the ‘in’ with the chef/owner, and he never told us!”

Abby copied DiNozzo’s stance and stared at Gibbs. She accused, “That’s so not fair! I hear the blackened tilapia is the best!”

McGee came forward, looking expectant. “You got a table? I’ve been dying to go there but they said the first available date is two months from now.”

Ducky and Palmer appeared out of nowhere and joined in, talking about the delicious food they’d heard about at the four-star restaurant, and before Gibbs knew what was happening, they had invited themselves to what he had hoped would be a cozy dinner with DiNozzo. And maybe the beginning of something more.

But somehow, they all ended up packed into the elevator, talking excitedly about what they planned to order, deciding who was going with whom, and in which car, and acting like this was some kind of field trip. As the elevator doors opened and the whole team spilled out into the parking garage, Gibbs caught DiNozzo’s arm to tell him this was supposed to be just the two of them, and how the hell had it turned into this circus? But DiNozzo turned his green eyes on him, and they were bright with excitement and happiness he hadn’t seen in them for quite some time.

“Thanks for letting us all tag along,” DiNozzo said.

_I don’t want them tagging along. I want you, only you, Tony. Shit, this is not what I intended, and how do I fix it…_ It was at that point that it struck him, just as hard and surprising as a sucker punch, that he _wanted_ Tony. He wanted to be _alone_ with him. He wanted Tony to _want_ to be with him, to be his, and his alone. He wanted him to….okay, he could think it… he wanted him to fucking _love_ him because, damn it, he had fallen in love with the man, and he didn’t know what to do about it. _God, his eyes are beautiful. And his mouth. Oh God, I am so fucked._

“Everything okay, Boss?”

“Yeah.” Although it pained him greatly to do so, Gibbs smiled. “It’s good.”

“You sure? Maybe I should drive.” DiNozzo indicated his own car, which was close by.

Probably for the first time in the eight years he’d known Tony, Gibbs nodded, agreeing he could drive.

  * • n c i s ••




	6. The Invitation

**CHAPTER 6 - THE INVITATION**

_Late evening, Saturday, April 18_

The food at the Urban Bass was as good, if not better, than the reviews. As Gibbs looked around the round table where they’d been seated, he couldn't help smiling as Ducky, seated across from him, related a tale of a fishing exploit from years ago, with Palmer listening avidly. And on his left, McGee was nudging shoulders with Abby as they enjoyed their Cajun-style fish dinner, even though there was plenty of room at the table.

Tony had called Ziva to invite her to join them, but she never showed up. Gibbs was glad. He didn’t want her sourness to ruin his evening. His second-in-command was at his right, animatedly talking about food preparation with Nick Oliver. Who had come out to greet them. Gibbs didn’t like the way DiNozzo … Tony … was flirting with the Urban Bass’ owner and chef, nor did he like to see Nick looking Tony over like he was on the menu. One of his hands rested casually on Tony’s shoulder, which made Gibbs want to leap across the table and tell Nick, ‘Hands off, he’s mine,’ even though that was, so far, just a wild, and unrealistic dream.

Nick gave them a bottle of wine on the house, and, with a wink at Tony, went back to his kitchen. The wine was excellent, if Tony’s almost orgasmic sounds of appreciation were anything to go by. Another bottle and then another followed, and they tasted a sampling of desserts, but now it was getting late. Gibbs indicated he thought they should wrap it up. “Back to work early tomorrow,” he said, and everyone groaned.

When Tony stood, he swayed slightly. After a quick trip to the men’s room, he returned with his hair slightly damp, looking a bit flushed, but at least he was walking straight. It took them a while to thank the chef, figure out who was paying what, and to get everyone in their respective cars. Gibbs commandeered the driver’s seat of Tony’s car, telling him he wasn’t fit to drive. Surprisingly, Tony slid into the passenger seat without quarreling.

On the drive to Tony’s condo, Gibbs glanced at him a few times. Had it only been that morning when Tony had jumped off _The Valiant_ in order to rescue their fugitive? His eyes were half-closed and he looked exhausted.

They weren’t far from their destination when Tony said sleepily, “That was nice, Boss.”

“Yeah, a good meal.” Not the kind of thing he could afford on a regular basis, although he knew Nick had given them a break on the wine and hadn’t charged them for the desserts.

“No… I mean, nice of you to let us… you know, tag along.”

“I did invite you,” Gibbs reminded him.

“Yeah. You did, didn’t you?” Tony smiled, looking a bit out of it, like when he got loopy on drugs. “You can be really nice, even if you pretend you’re not.” He yawned and slumped in his seat, then somehow managed to lean to his left and rested his head on Gibbs’ shoulder. He sighed contentedly. “Mmm… smell nice, too.”

Gibbs almost went off the road. How the hell much had Tony drunk? He liked the feeling of the younger man’s weight on him, but couldn’t enjoy the closeness for very long, as they soon arrived at Tony’s building. He parked in Tony’s assigned space and wrestled the tired man out of the car, into the building, and up to his floor. It wasn’t easy with Tony walking unevenly and leaning heavily upon him, but Gibbs got him safely inside his apartment.

After seating Tony on his bed, Gibbs removed his shoes and socks and then started on his tie. Tony wasn’t helping any. He was laughing and swaying, and started fumbling with Gibbs’ jacket, apparently attempting to undress him. It was a bit of a fight, but Gibbs got enough clothing off Tony so he could sleep comfortably, and tucked him into bed. He rustled up some Tylenol and a glass of water and made him take the pills. By the time all that was done, Tony was almost asleep.

Gibbs left the bathroom light on, the door half-closed, and was about to leave Tony’s bedroom when Tony raised his head off the pillow and asked, “Boss?”

With a sigh, Gibbs returned to his bedside. “Time to go to sleep.”

Tony reached out and took hold of his arm, asking insistently, “Why’d he do it?”

Gibbs knew exactly what Tony was asking, but instead of answering he stroked Tony’s hair and said softly, “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

But Tony didn’t let go of him, and apparently wasn’t going to let go of his question, either. “I need… to know.”

“It isn’t our job to understand why people do things, DiNozzo.”

Tony looked disappointed. “I still need to know. When Martin fell in love… with the girl… I don’ think he meant to. He musta known it wasn’t gonna end well.”

“I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Gibbs slipped out of Tony’s grasp, and he gently cupped his cheek. “Sleep.”

Tony turned his head into Gibbs’ palm and smiled. He mumbled “’kay,” closed his eyes, and a moment later was asleep.

Gibbs left a note on the kitchen counter for Tony to say he’d pick him up at 0730, as he had his car. As he drove home he thought, not about the case, or the dinner, but about how Tony had leaned into his hand and smiled when he’d caressed his cheek.

  * n c i s •



_Sunday, April 19_

After Admiral Kelsey’s autopsy was complete, Ducky stored his remains in a refrigerated compartment. As Ducky had postulated at the scene of the crime, Kelsey had died of bleeding around the heart from a single knife wound. “Martin Antibo, on the other hand, died as the result of a broken neck,” Ducky reported, perusing the body of the young man as it lay on the autopsy table. “No amount of resuscitation was going to bring this young man back to life, Anthony. That was a brave thing you did, jumping overboard to rescue him.”

“I was just doing my job, Ducky. Trying to capture a fugitive,” DiNozzo said with a shrug.

“Even though Mr. Antibo was an athlete with diving expertise, he must have hit the surface of the water head-on, rather than at an angle. And snap!”

Gibbs stole a glance at DiNozzo. He’d been ready when Gibbs had picked him up that morning, dressed in one of his expensive suits, and with his hair carefully styled, but something was off. There were no jokes or movie references, and he didn’t think he’d even caught sight of a smile.

DiNozzo was currently looking at Martin’s body and shaking his head. “How did he think he could possibly get away with it?”

“You talking about him getting away with killing the admiral, or sleeping with his own sister?” Gibbs asked sarcastically. “Or maybe thinking he could escape by diving off that boat?”

DiNozzo shrugged. “Any of it. All it took was the first misstep and the rest was a slippery slope.”

“It is my understanding,” Ducky said, “that this young man came looking for trouble. Even if he hadn’t become close with the admiral’s daughter, it is quite likely he still would have found a way to confront the man who was his true father.”

“Sounds like you believe in karma, Ducky,” DiNozzo said with a small smile.

Ducky shook his head. “I believe in people’s ability to walk over everything and everyone in their path, if their desire to reach their goal is strong enough, and hatred and revenge are very strong emotions, indeed.”

Gibbs snorted. “Yeah, well, this person sure as hell bulldozed his way through Admiral Kelsey’s family.”

  * n c i s •



They interviewed Ashley Kelsey – without her mother, but with a high-priced lawyer hovering nearby – but it soon became apparent she wasn’t going to admit she had withheld information, or that she had aided and abetted Martin. And there was no way to prove that she had known Martin escaped in her new car right after he’d knifed her father. Besides, years of experience had taught Gibbs that this young woman was never going to admit to any wrongdoing. He had a feeling she felt justified in all her actions.

Ziva did her best to get the girl to speak, but Ashley seemed unfazed by Ziva’s thinly veiled threats. DiNozzo interjected a few pointed questions, but still, Ashley didn’t budge.

When Gibbs was finished with her, he stood. “You can leave,” he said curtly.

The lawyer rose and said firmly, “Ms. Kelsey has made a formal request to view Martin Antibo’s body.” He handed paperwork over to Gibbs. “Everything is in order and has been signed.”

Ziva started to protest, but Gibbs caught her eye and jerked his chin in the direction of the exit. She left the room in a huff. He told Ashley and her lawyer to wait in the interview room while he stepped outside for a word with DiNozzo. Ziva had already disappeared. “DiNozzo, you up to escorting the girl down to autopsy?”

“Up to it? Sure, Boss, I’m fine.” DiNozzo frowned, as if he was puzzled at Gibbs’ query about his ability to do his job. “You look pissed.”

“Of course I’m pissed, DiNozzo! Even if she didn’t know Martin was going to kill the admiral, she sure as hell helped him escape.”

DiNozzo looked straight into Gibbs’ eyes and said, “I think we both know she ain’t exactly innocent, Boss, any more than Martin was – on any count. Like they said in the movie _Say It Isn’t So_ , ‘You know what the Bible says about fucking your own sister…” He paused a moment and then said, with a grin, “Don’t!’”

  * n c i s •



Tony escorted Ashley down to autopsy, where she viewed the body of Martin Antibo. Her lawyer stood near the doorway with a handkerchief held to his nose, looking pale.

They didn’t have a viewing room at NCIS, but on the few occasions when a relative visited Autopsy to identify someone, Ducky did his best to discreetly cover most of the body. He’d drape the body with a clean sheet to hide the unmistakable V-shape incision in the chest. Some people wanted to see what was going on under the sheet and pulled it back to inspect the remains. Others kept their distance and covered their nose with their sleeve, or even averted their eyes – like Ms. Kelsey’s lawyer.

“Yes, that’s Martin,” Ashley said in a small voice. Tony found it difficult to read her, as her expression was blank. She stood beside Martin’s body silently for several minutes before stroking his hair back so she could kiss his forehead. Once she had said her good-byes, Ashley stepped away and asked, almost as an afterthought, “Is my dad here?”

Ducky informed her Admiral Kelsey’s body had already been transferred to the funeral home of her mother’s choice. After thanking Ducky politely she walked back to the elevator, accompanied by Tony.

She asked him if she could have Martin’s bag, his belongings, which had been recovered from his berth on _The Valiant_ , but Tony informed her that it was evidence. They’d found the murder weapon in his bag, wrapped in some newspaper, among his clothing and toiletries. “Once we’re done, I’ll see what I can do about having it released to you, if there are no other relatives.” He didn’t want to give up the diaries Martin’s mother had written, not until he’d finished reading them.

When they neared the exit in the lobby, Ashley stopped and sent her lawyer ahead. She then asked, “Agent DiNozzo, do you know why Martin killed my father?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say at this time,” Tony said. He wasn’t about to discuss the case with her.

“No, I mean…” Ashley took a deep breath and said, “I think I know why. It was so we could be together. For years, Martin blamed my dad for his father’s death, and then recently found out that my dad got his mom pregnant over in Sicily. With _him_. My dad knew she was pregnant, but he walked out on her, treated her like she was a piece of dirt. How would _you_ feel if you knew that? Upset and angry? Of course you would. Anyone would. And then when my dad finally faced Martin, his _son_ , for the first time, he didn’t welcome him into his arms. No, Dad threatened to kill him.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tony asked, “You think maybe the admiral was all bent out of shape because Martin had been sleeping with you, his half-sister?”

Ashley looked intently at Tony, as if willing him to understand, and for the first time he saw the emotions she had been hiding so well. Her eyes revealed a fervor in them, and the deep belief that what she and Martin had done was somehow right. She said tersely, “You don’t get it. That didn’t matter to us. Martin told me about our relationship to each other a few days after we met, but I didn’t care. I loved him right from the first moment I laid eyes on him. We just clicked. And _nobody_ was going to keep us apart.”

Tony had a bad feeling that it was fine with Ashley if her father was out of the picture, if that’s what it took for her to be with Martin. He said slowly, “It didn’t have to go that way. Murder wasn’t the answer.”

“No,” Ashley said, said tiredly. “No, it isn’t.” And then she surprised Tony by giving a sweet smile and saying, as she touched her stomach, “At least Martin gave me something to remember our love by.”

Ashley walked out of the building as if seeing the remains of her killer boyfriend/lover lying on a metal slab was all in a day’s work. A driver opened the door of an SUV waiting at the curb and she got in. Tony watched until they had driven off.

  * n c i s •



Gibbs visited Abby, carrying the mandatory Caf-Pow! Even though she filed a digital copy of her report on the Kelsey case, she handed him a hard copy as well. “Here you go, all wrapped up as neat as a beignet sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar. Wasn’t that a great meal last night? I haven’t had shrimp gumbo like that since I left Louisiana – and the andouille sausage! And the chef, man, he was hot. He was really nice to give us a table on short notice.”

“You liked him, huh?” Gibbs asked, trying not to roll his eyes. Abby had hardly hidden her appreciation for the handsome chef, and neither had DiNozzo.

When he’d picked DiNozzo up that morning, his second-in-command didn’t mention the way Gibbs had put him to bed the night before, and Gibbs accepted that either he didn’t remember it, or else he was putting it out of his mind. It was a bit embarrassing, in retrospect, he told himself, although there had been a sweetness to Tony, in his half-drunk and sleepy state, that he had never seen before.

They had spoken only a few words to each other on the way to work, and once they had arrived, Gibbs had handed over DiNozzo’s car keys and they’d headed inside to begin another day at work. On one hand, he was disappointed they hadn’t had the opportunity to have a conversation, but on the other, he was relieved they hadn’t. Talking about personal stuff was something he wasn’t comfortable with, and although he knew he’d have to get over it if he wanted to get any further with Tony, it wasn’t going to be easy for him.

Abby went on and on in her usual manner, and Gibbs grunted a couple of times, but he sort of zoned out. Next thing he knew, Abby lightly punched his arm to get his attention and demanded, “Is there something going on?”

“Like what?” he asked guiltily.

“You acted like you were happy we were all together last night, but… you were doing just that: acting. You can’t fool me, you know. I can spot an act from a mile away. Okay, maybe not a mile, but if we’re in the same room…” Abby eventually stopped, only to lean in close so she could gaze into Gibbs’ eyes. Her eyes suddenly widened and she cried, “You really didn’t want us to be there. You didn’t want me and Timmy and… Oh. _Oh_!”

“What?” Gibbs asked, a little defiantly.

“When I came up to the bullpen, you were talking about the restaurant to… you were asking Tony… Oh, Gibbs!” Abby grabbed Gibbs and enveloped him in a hug. Just as suddenly as she’d hugged him, she released him and, sending him a stern look, she admonished, “You should have told me. I never would have come between you and a _date_.”

“It wasn’t… a _date_!” Gibbs said, horrified at the use of the word, and even more so that Abby had seen right through him. At this rate, he and DiNozzo were going to become fodder for gossip around the water cooler before he’d even asked him out to… share some food. Yeah, that’s all it had been.

Crossing her arms, Abby challenged, “What was it then? One person asks another person to join them for dinner. The one who asked pays the tab. I saw you pay for Tony’s meal. That’s called a date.”

Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly and wished he could hide the blush he felt climbing up his neck. “It could have been work-related.”

Abby raised an eyebrow and tapped her booted toe on the lab’s cement floor.

Gibbs licked his lips and shifted his weight and tried really hard not to squirm under Abby’s all-knowing scrutiny. He even eyed the exit, wondering if he could make it to the elevator before she tackled him. He didn’t think the odds were in his favor. “Okay. Fine. Fine!”

Abby asked, “Okay _what_?”

“Okay… it was an invitation… to dinner… and... Oh, hell, I was asking him out on a date.” He barely refrained from adding, ‘So there.’ Not that DiNozzo, who was usually so clued-in, had caught on.

“But you didn’t. You didn’t ask him, did you? Not properly,” she said, apparently understanding the situation far better than he did.

“Yeah I did. Sort of.”

“Really, Gibbs, you need to be clear when you ask, otherwise Tony will wonder what’s going on, and he’ll think he’s imagining things, and he’ll get all embarrassed and he’ll end up avoiding you because he feels guilty for thinking you might just like boys! You don’t want to do that to him, do you? You need to use your words,” Abby said.

Gibbs hung his head. He knew this. He did. Only, he’d been interrupted. “Everyone was butting in, taking over,” he complained. “He didn’t really want to go to dinner.”

“Tell me, do you want to take Tony out on a date? And, if so, what are your intentions?” Abby asked seriously.

Intentions? Immediately the picture of him and Tony grappling in a sexual manner, and him pushing Tony onto a bed and fucking his sweet ass, came to mind.

“Gibbs!”

Gibbs wanted to contest he liked ‘boys,’ as Abby called them, but he couldn't deny there was one particular man he was crazy about. Abby prodded him so he said, “Okay, intentions. I want to… take him out and… be together. You know, just us. Tony and me.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? First thing you need to do is ask him out properly, and then the stuff you were dreaming about will come later. Think of it as your reward,” she said with a smile. “So, now, let’s talk details and logistics…”

  * n c i s •



_The following Friday, April 24_

The minute Tony got home, he poured himself a glass of white wine, heated up some frozen linguini, and settled on his comfortable couch with the TV on. He pulled out the diaries Francesca Vitani Antibo had written, starting about a year before her only child Martin’s birth. He’d already read through most of them. The investigation had been closed, and the diaries were no longer needed, but he wanted to finish what he’d started.

Francesca Vitani had been Italian by birth, and much of the writing was in her native tongue, but Tony understood enough to get the gist of it.

Francesca had been depressed when she’d met Captain Brian Kelsey. “How strange,” she had written, in a flourishing script, “for such deep, passionate love to be born out of such a dark place I was in. Only it wasn’t love on his part, I eventually came to realize. He loved our bodies coming together, and being told sweet things in Sicilian as if they were dirty, and making love the morning after, while we both still bore the scent of sex on our bodies.”

One day he was there, the next, he was gone. She had found she was pregnant soon after he’d left.

Within a month Francesca met and married a US Navy diver, Commander Antibo. His grandfather had been Sicilian and he knew some of the dialect. It sounded as though they’d loved each other, but when their little boy, Martin, was only ten, the commander had died in a training accident. Francesca’s writing grew erratic and she’d had some sort of breakdown, from what Tony could tell.

“He wrote to me many times, sending money as well as letters, but the endearments ~ ‘I am weak for you,’ he would say ~ slowly faded away. But the money no longer comes. It is difficult at times, and my Martin wants to build ships, big ones, and pleads with me to go to the America with him. How can I refuse? I must write to Brian and tell him the truth, that Martin is his son, and he has been accepted at the university in South Carolina. Brian needs to pay for our son’s education. He needs to do this for our Martin.”

Apparently she never told Martin the truth about Brian Kelsey being his real father, not until her dying day, and that had brought out strong emotions and set off a chain of events – hatred, jealousy, desire, revenge. Vendetta, Tony thought. He’d been right about that. Only Martin had become caught in his own plot. He’d fallen for Ashley, and vice versa, according to her. But Tony wondered if Martin’s aim had been to get the girl pregnant and abandon her, just as Admiral Kelsey had done to his mother. But doing that to your own half-sister?

He sighed and put the diaries away. Flipping the TV channels, Tony settled on a show following people trying to survive in a hostile, insect- and snake-ridden jungle. It was making him itchy just watching it, and he was about to turn it off when his doorbell rang.

“Gibbs,” he said, surprised to see his boss at his door on a Friday night.

“Didn’t think you’d be home on a Friday night,” Gibbs said, echoing his own thoughts.

Tony managed a chuckle. “Yeah, well, I needed a quiet night to myself. Oh, not you. I mean, come in.”

“You sure?”

Tony quoted Gibbs. “Do I ever say things I don’t mean?”

It was Gibbs’ turn to smile. “Yeah, I think you do.” He shrugged. “Me, I try not to open my mouth.”

“Ah, afraid of hurting people’s feelings,” Tony said, nodding.

Gibbs blinked at that. “I’m not nice, not like you seem to think I am, Tony.”

It was Tony’s turn to stop in his tracks. Gibbs was calling him Tony. Maybe it was because they were off-duty? Or because he was in his condo, as a guest? Huh, it had never happened before.

Gibbs said he wasn’t staying long enough to sit. “I need a favor.” As soon as Tony said yes, of course, Gibbs explained, “I’ve been asked to help out with the restoration of an old house. They just got the go-ahead to start work on it and I have to go over. Take measurements. Thing is, I need sketches and diagrams and photos and I wondered if–”

Tony broke in, “Yeah, sure! I mean, if you’re asking me to do that, I can do it. Of course you know I can take photos, do sketches… Where’s the house? When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning. It’ll take a few hours. I’ll bring lunch,” Gibbs said in a clipped manner.

“Um, sure. Okay! What should I bring?”

“Apart from camera and sketch stuff? Water, a hat… oh, and bug spray, just in case,” Gibbs said.

Tony was about to ask more questions but Gibbs had already done an about-face, saying over his shoulder, “Pick you up at 0700.”

He was gone before Tony realized that Gibbs hadn’t told him where the house was located. “Oh well, guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  * n c i s •




	7. The Island

**CHAPTER 7 - THE ISLAND**

_Morning, Saturday, April 25_

As he sat in the bow watching the shoreline pass by, Tony berated himself for simply following Gibbs like an obedient dog. He’d been bursting with questions right from the moment Gibbs had picked him up early that morning, but Gibbs had given him a look, right off the bat, that clearly stated “No questions allowed.”

Some of the obvious ones were ‘Where are we going?’ and ‘Why are we on a rickety old boat on the Potomac being steered upriver by a weather-beaten old man wearing a filthy captain’s cap that should have been relegated to the trash a long time ago?’ Followed by, ‘And where the _hell_ are we going, Boss?’

When Tony couldn't keep his lips buttoned any longer, and asked the third question aloud, Gibbs just shook his head and kept his eye on the river ahead of them. By Tony’s calculations, they were somewhere below Great Falls Park, but on the Maryland side.

Captain Eaton, the old guy at the helm of the small cabin cruiser, named _Mona Lisa_ , had greeted Gibbs like an old friend back on the dock. He’d shaken Tony’s hand and eyed him speculatively, then had raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, who had shrugged in response. Tony had no clue what their wordless dialog was about, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer, if he knew it.

Tony looked at his waterproof backpack, safe by his feet. He’d packed water and snacks, sketchpad and drawing materials, sunblock, a hat, a tape measure and his camera. And bug spray. Gibbs had hauled a large insulated cooler plus a backpack of his own onto the boat, causing Tony to ask, “Are you sure this isn’t a case, Boss?”

“Not a case, DiNozzo.”

They were heading for what appeared to be an overgrown area of the shoreline, and as they drew closer, Tony realized it was an island. He tried to remember what islands were up in this part of the river. None of them were inhabited, as far as he knew. Just as he was about to ask Gibbs what was going on, the captain piloted the small craft around a point of land and pulled up to a new-looking dock. Gibbs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, clambered onto the dock and hauled Tony up beside him. After the captain had handed up his cooler, Gibbs raised one hand and simply said, “See ya.”  
  


“On the turn,” Captain Eaton replied, as he expertly steered _Mona Lisa_ away from the dock.

Tony stood there and, not for the first time, wondered what the hell was going on. “The turn? The turn of what? Is he leaving us here? Should I have brought camping gear?”

Gibbs pulled his backpack onto his shoulders and said, as he tightened its straps, “Turn of the tide. Don’t worry, he’s coming back in a few hours.”  
  


Tony looked around at the dense growth of trees and undergrowth in front of them. “Me, worried? I’m not worried, Boss. What made you think that?”

Gibbs picked up his cooler and headed down a path that led into a tangled jungle of trees and bushes. The brush was so thick Tony could picture early explorers hacking their way through dense jungle with machetes. He stopped to apply bug repellant, and recalled the people he’d seen in that TV show last night. They’d been miserable, having been bitten all over their bodies due to the damp tropical conditions and heavy breeding of a hundred varieties of bugs. When he was done, he looked up. Gibbs had disappeared. “Shit.” Louder, he called, “Gibbs? Boss!”

“Here.”

“Where?”

“Marco.”

“Did you just say…?” Tony forced his way through the dense undergrowth and called out, “Polo, damn it!” All of a sudden, he broke free of the tangle of greenery, and practically fell into an open field.

Gibbs was standing there, looking as cool as a cucumber, smiling and shaking his head. “Do I need to tie a bell on you?”

“No, but you disappeared!”

Gibbs clamped a hand on his back. “C’mon, I’ll show you what we came here for.”

Tony said, “I thought you said there was a house…” Gibbs led the way around a heavy stand of evergreens, and there, on a slight rise, was a huge old house. “Oh my God! This is the Dwight mansion!” Tony exclaimed. “So this is…”

“Sycamore Island,” Gibbs said. “You know the house?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve never been here, but it’s on our urban decay list of places to explore. Built in 1880 by William G. Dwight. He made his fortune in railroads and thought living on an island was a great idea. There used to be a bridge to the mainland but it got washed out too many times. Hey, Boss, is there any security here?” He looked around for guards patrolling the estate and Gibbs laughed.

“It’s okay, we have permission.”

The house was huge, three stories of stonework, with a turret and windows half-covered in creeping ivy. Someone had removed some of the boards from the ground floor windows, and Tony could see stained glass. They made their way across the uneven and cracked front path to huge double front doors. Gibbs produced a key and unlocked a new padlock on the door and had to nudge it open with his shoulder. Once inside, he put the cooler down and slipped off his backpack, too.

“Here’s the grand hall,” Gibbs said as they stepped inside. “The property is now being managed by the DC Heritage Institute and the National Park Service. The house is under the DCHI, and the grounds, the park service.”

“Is this what you’re working on?” Tony asked, looking around with interest.

“Yeah. My job is to restore the staircase. I’m sure there’ll be more I can do later on, but… well, you’ll see the mess it’s in. We can go anywhere in the house except the attic. You can take photos so long as you give a copy of all of them to the institute. They like to keep records of everything.”

Tony was awestruck at the imposing hall, with its ten-foot-high ceilings, carved wood paneling and black marble fireplace. There were leaves and some broken glass littering the floor, and signs some critters had been living there, but it didn’t smell bad – just old. The staircase, as Gibbs had said, needed help. Most of the treads seemed in good shape, but many of the spindles were broken or missing, and one of the intricately carved walnut newel posts had been severely damaged. “Looks like a beaver went to town on this. Is this what you’re going to be reconstructing?” Tony asked, turning to Gibbs.

Gibbs was standing in the center of the large hall, looking up at the carved ceiling. A shaft of light shone through one of the stained glass windows above the front door, painting Gibbs’ silver hair blues and gold. Tony grabbed his camera and got in a couple of shots before Gibbs moved. He looked at Tony, puzzled, so he showed him the shots on the viewfinder. “‘It is one light which beams out of a thousand stars,’” Tony quoted. Looking at the light on Gibbs’ hair, he said softly, without thinking, “You’re beautiful.” To his amazement, Gibbs’ cheeks grew pink. Was he blushing? Tony smiled and found the way Gibbs shrugged and turned away to hide his embarrassment endearing.

Gibbs got busy, pulling out a tape measure, and Tony took down measurements as he called them out. They worked together, gathering the specs for the newel post, much as they would at a crime scene. Tony took a ton of photos of the entire staircase, from all angles, and together they did the sketches and measurements. Gibbs took a couple of loose spindles as samples for those he planned to duplicate. Finally, they were done, and Gibbs asked Tony if he wanted to go off on his own and explore.

“Nah, I’d rather stick with you,” Tony said. “What do you know about the original owners?

As they walked through the rooms, Gibbs related that Dwight and his wife had eight children, plus two nannies and a full house staff as well as workers for outside. “They built two big greenhouses and grew fruits and vegetable.” Gibbs halted in front of a window and pointed at the large glass structures, overwhelmed with vines. “Needs work, but they still have some tropical trees in one of them.”

They walked through room after room, all devoid of furniture. Apart from the great hall, there were two parlors, a library with a few books remaining on the shelves, a long dining room with decorative carved paneling on the walls and ceiling. There was a huge kitchen and scullery with the old iceboxes still intact, and upstairs there were six bedrooms for family – some in pretty bad shape from water damage – and more in the attic for the house staff.

“At the turn of the century, there was a boathouse with rowboats, and Dwight kept a small steamboat at the ready so he could visit his mistress down in DC. The family stopped coming here in the summers by the 1950s.”

“They just abandoned the island?” Tony asked.

“Pretty much. The landing area – where we came in – was leased to a boating club in the seventies. There was too much vandalism going on so the owners locked up the property.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Tony said, looking around. “Must be a labor of love.”

“Got some serious investors, solid plans,” Gibbs replied.

“And people like you who lend your skills to the project, right?”

Gibbs shrugged and smiled. “Like you said, it’s a labor of love.”

“So once it’s fixed up, it’ll be a park?” Tony asked.

“That’s the idea. There will be walking paths along the shoreline, and the greenhouses will be open. There used to be a flat lawn out back. The house will take a while to restore, but there are plans for it, too. The ground floor is supposed to be ready in six months.” Gibbs shrugged as if to say he had his doubts.

They were upstairs when Gibbs spotted a boat coming in to the dock. He was expecting a team of workmen and someone from the institute to visit, so he went down to talk shop with them and left Tony alone to look around.

He must have taken 500 photos of the house and gardens by the time Gibbs joined him out in a greenhouse. It was warm in there and butterflies were fluttering around some exotic-looking flowers. It was obvious someone had been tending the plants in the greenhouses, but there were still plenty of vines and weeds choking the paths around the structures. Members of a botanical society came out on field trips, did what they could, Gibbs explained.

“Hungry?” Gibbs asked. Carrying the cooler, he led the way up to the second floor of the house and opened what appeared to be a closet door. It turned out to be a hidden staircase that led up to a balcony large enough for a table and two chairs. Once Gibbs closed the door behind them, they were totally alone.

Tony didn’t know what to say. Gibbs had arranged this trip to somewhere he knew Tony would find fascinating, and he’d found this secret little place for lunch, and he’d _brought_ lunch, too.

Gibbs smiled at Tony’s silence and proceeded to unpack the contents of the cooler. There were rosemary rolls and smoked pork spread, potato salad and crab balls, and orange iced tea with dark chocolate cookies on the side. Gibbs handed him a plate and said, “There’s water and beer if you want it.”

Tony looked at the spread in wonder. “Did you make all this?”

“God no! Remember, I have a friend who’s a chef,” Gibbs replied.

“Still, this is really nice.” They sat at the table, and as they ate, Tony took time to look around. There was quite a view from their private spot; he could see the river and could catch a glimpse of the city if he leaned to one side. A light breeze had kicked up, enough to keep things cool, stirring the trees below. He turned to Gibbs and found the man was watching him with a smile on his face. “What?” Tony asked.

“Admiring the view,” Gibbs replied, looking straight at him.

The line was as corny as hell, but Tony could tell that the older man really meant it. He ducked his head a little, embarrassed, and felt his ears growing hot.

“Hey,” said Gibbs, covering one of Tony’s hands with his own.

It was rough but nice, Tony decided. “Are you flirting with me?” he asked, looking at Gibbs from under his eyelashes.

Gibbs tensed for a moment and removed his hand. He nodded. “I’m tryin’ but I’m not really good at it, Tony.”

“Okay, you seem a little rusty, but that’s all right,” teased Tony. “Jethro,” he added belatedly. Hey, if the boss could call him Tony, he could call him Jethro. “You planned all this.”

“The lunch, yeah. I did have to come out here at some point,” Jethro admitted. “After I found out you and the other two have been doing your urban exploring thing, I thought you’d like to see the island.”

“That’s nice of you, thinking of me,” Tony replied. Jethro took a sip of his drink and shrugged, but Tony could tell he was pleased at his response.

After clearing his throat, Jethro said, “Been thinking about you a lot lately. Even before you dove off _The Valiant_.”

“You have? I thought I saw you checking me out. I wasn’t sure if I was going to get fired or promoted,” Tony said, only half-kidding.

“No,” Jethro was quick to say. “I’d never fire you.”

Tony’s smile grew wide. “I’m that good, huh?”

Jethro rolled his eyes, but he agreed. “Yeah, you’re good.”

They were quiet for a while, as they ate and drank, and then Tony asked a question about the house, and Jethro replied, and after _that_ conversation died out, Tony asked, “Is this… a _date_?”

Jethro tensed up again, but he faced Tony, looking him in the eye, and he said with resolve, “I should’ve asked you out properly. To your face. Used my words.”

“That sounds like Abby.”

“Yeah, well, she told me to stop jerking you around,” Jethro admitted. “But I was a coward, and I’m sorry.”

Tony stared at Jethro. He really wanted to stick his finger in his ear and shake his head, as if he couldn’t have heard him right. Instead, he nodded slowly, as if Jethro apologizing was an everyday occurrence, and as if he understood what was going on. Instead, he suggested, “Maybe you could do it now.”

“You mean…ask you out?”

“If that’s what you want,” Tony replied cautiously. Jethro looked a little bit scared, but that made Tony all the braver. “I’m not gonna bite, you know. Not unless you want me to.”

Jethro smiled, one of those quirks at the corner of his mouth, the kind that meant he was cracking up on the inside, but didn’t want the world to see how amused he was. “Let’s put that one on the back burner for now, okay?” He took Tony’s hand once again, took a deep breath and said, “I came to terms, years ago, that I’m the kind of man who is always on the run. I ran from my hometown straight into the Marines, and then, even though I was married and could have easily transferred to a job stateside, or even left the military and found a grunt job, I didn’t. I ran from one combat zone into another, year after year: Panama, Kuwait, Libya. They kept saying, ‘You’re the only man for the job,’ and I said, ‘Yessir! I’ll go and serve my country,’ every time a mission came up.” He hesitated before continuing, “When I was injured one time too many, and the Marines gave me the boot, I ran straight to NCIS. I thought I could settle down, get married again, but all the emotional crap, the confrontations… were too much and… I ran.”

Tony watched the emotions crossing Jethro’s face, the disappointment, the self-loathing, the hint of fear, and he wanted to grab the man and wrap his arms around him and tell him, ‘Stop running, Jethro! You don’t need to run any more. I’m here for you.’ But instead, Tony waited to see what else this new and talkative Jethro was going to reveal.

“I’m tired of being the rigid guy nobody dares to cross, the man who can’t open his mouth to tell someone he cares and… can’t even tell him how he _feels_. I don’t…” Jethro wiped a hand over his face and said, “Seeing you go overboard did something to me. Changed how I saw you. How I saw _us_. I was so angry and so… so fucking scared…”

“I was fine, Jethro. I wasn’t hurt. I jumped the smart way, you know that,” Tony said, trying to convince Jethro he hadn’t been in any danger.

“I know that but…” Jethro made a frustrated motion with his hand. “I don’t want to lose you. I want to stop and take a chance. I want… I want _you_ , to be with you. I know I need to learn how to do the emotional stuff, and frankly, you’re the only person who knows how to deal with me. And I promise you, I’ll do my damnedest to make it work, if only you’ll say yes.”

Wow, that had been one hell of a speech, floodgates opening and all. Tony wasn’t sure what to make of it all, and he’d need time to digest it, but for now, he said, “You know I’ve done my share of running, and I know how lonely that is, especially when the adrenaline wears off. I love working for NCIS, and I love my family here, everyone… well, almost everyone… and I love you, Gibbs, as my boss and mentor…” He felt Jethro pulling away, but Tony held onto his hands. “And I would love to take this, whatever it is, to another level, and to guide you and get you to say your words, but we have to take this a step at a time, okay? And the first thing is you need to ask me that question that started this whole thing.” He waited, looking expectantly at Jethro.

Jethro swallowed hard and asked, “Tony DiNozzo, will you go on a date with me?”

“Yes, I will, Jethro Gibbs, but how about next time we do something on dry land, okay?” The second he rose to his feet, Jethro did the same, and one of them made the first move – Jethro always swore it was him but Tony wasn’t so sure – and next thing they were hugging. Tony did the brave thing and angled his head and kissed Jethro, pouring every emotion into that kiss, including some he hadn’t even known he’d felt – possessiveness, satisfaction, submission – and when they finally came up for air, both of them red-faced and panting, they laughed and kissed some more.

Eventually they packed up and headed down to the dock, and right on time, _Mona Lisa_ appeared with Captain Eaton at the helm. “Get what you wanted?” the captain asked.

Jethro sent Tony a sideways glance and replied, “Oh yeah.”

  * n c i s •




	8. Using His Words

**CHAPTER 8 - USING HIS WORDS**

_Evening, Saturday, April 25_

Tony leaned back on the couch in Gibbs’ living room and raised his arms above his head in a long after-dinner stretch. “That was a good steak, Jethro.” He caught Jethro standing in the doorway eying him like he wanted to eat him or something. Realizing that dark, intense look in Jethro’s eye had been triggered by his shirt riding up when he stretched, he quickly tugged it down to hide his bare stomach. Covering up his embarrassment, Tony reached for his camera and started previewing some of the photos he’d taken on Sycamore Island on the small screen. “I can’t wait to load these on my Mac and look at them full-sized. I got some good ones of those crazy plants in the greenhouse. Amazing they survived without anyone caring for them.”

Jethro walked over and sat beside Tony, leaning into him so he could look at the camera’s viewfinder. “There have been caretakers and preservation groups in there, on and off, over the years.”

Tony scrolled through the images to find some of the interior of the house. “Look at this one. It’s the ceiling of the library… what do they call it? A coffered ceiling? Those are all hand-carved squares in the shape of different flowers.”

Jethro didn’t reply. Instead, he nuzzled Tony’s neck and inhaled deeply.

That felt good, like really good, but Tony continued talking about the architectural elements they’d seen in the Dwight mansion, and the project Jethro had taken on. He licked his lips and said in a slightly rough voice, “Did you know that kind of ceiling was first used in Ancient Rome to support the weight of stone ceilings?” A hot, wet tongue licked his neck and Tony found it hard to breathe. “Um… and in Greece… Oh, that’s… that’s really good. Yeah, right there… uh… in Greece…”

Jethro pulled away and whispered in Tony’s ear, “You having trouble finding your words? I can stop.”

“No! No, don’t…” The tongue started up again, and Jethro nibbled at his earlobe. Tony closed his eyes and moaned. Fuck, this was making his dick harden, and he could hardly think, much less put one word after another. He managed to ask in a breathy voice, “Bed?”

Jethro turned Tony’s head to face him, and kissed him thoroughly, and when he was done he asked, “You say something?”

Tony nipped Jethro’s chin teasingly. “I said, ‘bed.’ You _do_ have one upstairs, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Jethro replied, as if it were a stupid question.

“Just that you either sleep on this old couch or down in your dungeon.”

“It’s a basement and yes, I have–”

Tony covered Jethro’s mouth with his palm and asked, “Then why are we messing around down here and not in a nice big bed?” Next thing he knew, Jethro had grabbed his arm and was hauling him upstairs and into the one room in the house he had never before seen – the master bedroom.

Tony only had the opportunity to take a cursory look around before Jethro pushed him onto the bed and asked, “This what you want?”

Tony grinned and said, “Oh yeah,” and started pulling off his shirt.

  * n c i s •



Twenty minutes later Tony was lying beside Jethro, breathing hard, and covered in sweat and spunk. “Fuck, that was… Wow.” Considering Jethro had never been with a man before, he sure knew what to do to make his partner happy. Tony rolled his head to look at the man who had just fucked him so hard he’d seen stars. “Wow,” he said once again, grinning.

Jethro was lying limply beside him, chest heaving, groaning.

“You okay there?” Tony asked.

Jethro flapped a hand at him.

Tony laughed and rolled onto his side, throwing one arm over his lover’s waist. “That was great. Stupendous, incredible, fun…”

Jethro made a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a moan.

“Can we do it again?”

Jethro rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said. Think you can use your words?” Tony teased.

“Oh God.”

“Did I break you or something?”

Finally, Jethro said, “I’ve never… not like that. Not with…”

“Not with a man?”

“Not with anybody. Amazing.”

“You see stars? ‘Cause I did, in all sorts of pretty colors.”

“Mmmm. Fireworks,” Jethro said with a smile. After some silence, he asked, “You sure about this? You’re not gonna change your mind and sign up as a deckhand on a yacht, are you?”

“Sail the seven seas with Captain Carol? It’s tempting,” Tony said with a grin. Sighing, he got serious. “You know, if anyone had asked me a week ago if I’d ever make love with my boss, I’d have told them they were crazy. Now, I’m thinking it was crazy _not_ to. We should’ve done this a long time ago, Boss. You got me hooked.”

Jethro reached over and caressed Tony’s cheek. “You know I’m not going to be able to give you up. It’s all or nothing.”

Tony smiled broadly. “So this is forever? No matter what? Good, because I love you, and I know it’s probably way too soon for you to get all deep, and talk about feelings, but… do you…? All I need is a small part of you…”

"You have all of me, Tony," Jethro said in a deep voice.

In reply, Tony wrapped his arms around Jethro's muscular back and hid his face in the crook of his neck. "You're everything to me," Tony whispered, his voice muffled against his lover's damp skin.

Jethro’s response was to kiss Tony lovingly, and for Tony, that was the best answer he could ever get.

  * n c i s •



_May 2009_

Before summer arrived, Vance relieved Ziva David of her temporary position at NCIS, accusing her of espionage, and told her that her father had a jet waiting for her at the airport. She kicked up a fuss, but as the hour was late, there was nobody but the director and two beefy security guards around to witness her meltdown.

  * n c i s •



_June 2009_

Tony, Tim and Abby planned a road trip in the summer to see the abandoned grain silos and a wrecked ship on the Lakes, a massive gothic church with ornate stonework that had been used in several scary movies in Chicago, and, for Abby, an insane asylum whose electro-shock treatment equipment had been left behind. Jethro spearheaded the trip and acted as the safety manager. Even though both Tim and Abby knew of his relationship with Tony, they never said a word of it to anyone outside their little circle.

  * n c i s •



_July 2009_

By the time the summer was in full swing, Jethro had taken Tony on a myriad of dates: to watch sports, hear music and explore a world of fine cuisine. They even had some dates at home, involving steak dinners and sex so good they both saw stars.

Admittedly, they had been sleeping together on a regular basis since the day they’d taken their first trip out to see the Dwight mansion. After they’d been dating for three months, Jethro took Tony on a dinner date he’d specially arranged aboard _The Valiant._ After being greeted by Captain Carol and her crew, and served a first-class dinner by the charter boat’s perpetually pissed-off chef, they were left alone.

Jethro sat in the bow of the ship with his arm around Tony, and pointed at the constellations in the night sky. “See, there, above Hercules?”

“The box with the tail?”

“Yeah. That’s Draco, the dragon that guarded the gardens of Hesperides.”

Tony turned to Jethro with a smile. “How’d you get so smart?”

Jethro shrugged. “Read a little about using the stars for navigation. I was saving that one for you.” He kissed Tony, gently at first, and then he took Tony’s face in both of his hands and kissed him deeply, tasting of lobster and champagne.

When they parted, Jethro blinked at him as if he was just waking up from a deep sleep. All of a sudden he asked, “Move in with me? I’m fucking useless without you, and you’re always going to be part of my life, Tony, and if you don’t know by now that I’m… damn it… I am so much in love with you… Say yes.”

Pretty much left speechless, all Tony could get out was, “Yes.”

  * n c i s • e n d • n c i s •



_**Thanks for reading my story, and commenting!** _


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